Chatham Summer Boredom.

Being back in your hometown for the summer can rot your brain, so I thought I would keep it up to the date by the stories that flow through my head.

[demonskin-deactivated20150923]

[brightlightsbigtoronto]

and he cared for me, and that feeling could satisfy me for a long time, or until i get a very loving cat.

E.B.B.

[dans-weave]

[brightlightsbigtoronto]

Same tastes as robert plant...im too legit to quit right now!

[millionsmillions]

Artist Julia Callon creates dioramas inspired by nineteenth-century works of fiction such as Jane Eyre and “The Yellow Wallpaper.”

[brightlightsbigtoronto]

because you are the only might

they are statues, they dont move. the creativity supposed to pour out o them, but they stay at full salute and unable to move in thier creative maner. from key to key they suppoed to meet, but never do. sentances never written, words never used, thought never shared. They are stuck in satue hood, unable to come up with intellingent sentace, creative element, or legitiate thought. They could move, but really, why should they?

What would become of them? What was the point in acting thier duty? Yes, a website is all fine and dandy. Maybe this websie would make them famous? But why try again? Why try to spill soul from tips of fingertip, why try to be heard, Why try to hope? What is our destiny, as muddled and pretinsious as it sounded. They waited for answer.

And so the thought? Why was it important? What could beocome of this? What was the point?

And then finally someone had an idea, after days and days wondering why, everyone had the chance to the what for question is important.

"We don't believe in the word believe. What is the point. We now we will never 100% win. We know we can do this for a good cause? But why? cause we can believe...the word in pointless in this word.

Cause you never win 100%. There is always that but...I'm ok with the world believe, but I can believe in might. Because believe makes me want to, but might makes we want to belive it.

I never want to know I will win. I never want to know if I will lose. I want to know my mights, my maybes, my imangines, my creatives, my hopes, my dreams, to you...just for you.

Because why would I show the love of my life. No offence, but I've doubt we met, and there is a 00000000000000.1 chance I have met you. Or seen you, or loved you. But I know I might, i migh believe there are good people and the world, and the majority of us are. I just want you to know you are cared about. Because some of us need help, small or large, and some people need love, small or large, and some of us just want to help, small, but I think we might.

Even though I have never talked to you, hurt you, loved you, I just hope your alright, and your not suffereing that you are happy. Thats all I want. I want you to have the happiest movment. And I wish tha happend for your kids and nieces and nephews and your aunts, etc. I want yoe and everyone around you to be happy. I want your life to be as fullfilled as your hearts desire. And i Hope love comes to you. I love you. Please, please, please, be ok, an I love you, and don't do anyything I wouldent do, which is guess is anything because I would do anyting for you. Anything. Anything you cannot know how much I care about you. god I hope your ok.

I guess that is what I do worry,but got I just hope you might be ok.

This is my point, i hope you will be ok (there is so much certianty)

This may be point( you are against the odds, its only your stregth and might to keep your beiefs from crumbling , but that is what thye have. they hope, everything i against them so they kept on moving, and that is why you should belief, because you could be wrong, you could not be correct, you may not know where you want to go. But thats great inent it? living in uncertainty kowing anyting could be coming your way. Its a cuese its hard, but isent it lovely?

Thik abou your loved ones and your liked ones, and knnow I lvoe you ad all of hem.

I hope...I hope I might think you are ok...

and why my fingers are so stauesque? why they cannot jumble out of a thought.  A single simple thought. 

Becaue all they think about is you. You are what makes her might beautiful. She might be the one thing you are missing. 

thank you 

[julieftws]

‘ALRIGHT DOCTOR’ - Benedict

‘ALRIGHT SHERLY’ - Matt

[doctorwho]

That sort of thing

[brightlightsbigtoronto]

He was the most terrifying masterpiece

...when you seem it, it feels like he is luring over you, but he is not. He wouldent bring down demeanour by slouching down to kill you. He can do it all from up there.

But lets say he is not about to take your last breath. In any other social setting, men want to be him, and most of the time, women want to sleep with him.

This man is not beautiful. Its what around him and his position that makes him more desirable to the fairer sex. His mannerisms speak for him in a silent language that only the female brain can see. As he picks up a napkin, you can tell he has been bread well for upper class gatherings. The way he shakes your husbands hand, you can't tell if he comes from old money, until the desert entree comes, and you see him pull out his wallet. The shreiveport country club. Thats the oldman clubhouse for the pretty boys of old money. That settles it. 

His guestures may communicate the type of money, but what he does spend it on is clothes. He dresses like a caual businessmen. A commercial for a Tommy Hilfigure or H and M is missing thier model. Tweed jackets, nice fitting courdoroys or dark wash jeans, with a sharp scarf. He always has something in his hand. From file (from work), coffee (black), or his phone (blackberry), he walks around, hands full with purpose and intent. With that confidence, style, and money, women swoon for him. 

But its not until you see him face when you see the true ugliness. What hidden under those eyes, smile, skin, cheeckbones: a monster.

His mouth feels too big for his face. It makes his smiles look plastered on, as if every time the corner of his mouth raises, someone plasters a fake cheek to cheek happy face on his noggin. 

That was superficial, but for some reason he seems untrustworthy. When you look at his skin from afar it looks like tiny lines all over his face, and deep dark ones at that. He dresses like a thirty something but his face looks like a 50 something. I assume he is somewhere in-between (43 I would say), but when you crawl up to his eyes, was the moment it changed for me. There was evil in those pale blues, they ripped me from head to toe. They were full of malaise and disgrace. They burned into me, slowing turing into a darker form of myself. They bore into me like lazers on ice. It was then stuck in time, stuck in place I could decide to fight or fall into the darkness with him. 

And I fell. I fell in love with him. I fell hard and deep into the darkest pits of him, that I didn't know where his evil begin and I ended.

He swallowed me up like hungry lion in a heard of Zebras. All I did was nodd.

[brightlightsbigtoronto]

I Miss Your Stupid Fucking Face

Alright I am going to say it.

We were best friends. We were two peas in a pod. From timbits to full sized doughnuts. The skate to my stick. I don't think I could find a friend that was a better suit for me. You were perfect.

The buzz word there is "were". Because obviously you are not anymore. I tried being for your friend, I really did. I was always there for your problems. I was always there for your bullshit. Through thick and thicker, through musicals and heart break. Through class and weekends. I was there. In any case, I was there even when everyone was not. Everyone dumped you, wanted to stop being your friend, wanted you out of thier life. Apparently I was the stupid one in the relationship because I stuck around. 

First it was stupid comments that I kept getting from people: "Are you two alright. She was saying some pretty nasty things about you... ", "So you two are in a fight? She was telling me about some problems". I didn't know we were having problems. Apparently we were. And I guess I was mad that you never really wanted to talk to me about them, but you wanted to tell everyone else how much I sucked. That is probably the main reason I tell people when I have a problem with them now, is because I really don't want to turn into you. You who tells people horrible thing about their one friend, but does not have the common curtesy to tell them to me. I never said one bad thing about you. Which is also why people started hating you, because everyone else saw what you really were. I only say horrible things when I am upset that you are not around anymore. And that was was after our falling out. 

I admit, I started breaking away. I never really told secrets to you after I heard you were talking to other people about me. I also branched out and started talking to my other friends more because I did see the writing on the wall. But in my eyes, I'm the one who really did try to keep our friendship together, while you were already walking out that door. 

But I miss our times together. I miss our accents, our playdates, our craziness, our uniqueness. How we used to think no one else was like us because we were practically nuts. I miss speaking horrible french with you. I miss laughing over supernatural. I miss bitching about our sisters and fathers and wishing, thinking that once we get out of highschool, like would start to be alright.

And it is alright. Mostly because you are not in it. And it sucks to think that.

To me, you are dead. My friend died that year. I went from having a selfless, dramatic, funny, crazy bestfriend, to having a girl who's name still gives me the chills everytime I hear it. And it sucks because I still see you around, the shell of a friend I once had. You are not the person I befriended on the hockey bench all those years ago. And if I never talked to you again, I would be totally ok with that.

But to my friend who is not with us anymore. Fuck you. Fuck you, fuck you fuck you. I miss you stupid fucking face. fuck. 

[brightlightsbigtoronto]

The Tales of Nora Nightengale

The Tales of Nora Nightengale

A Diary by Richard Gaberiel

it's not a diary its a journal!

A Story By C.S.B. 

_____________________________

Please be nice to her, because, I love her. Like, super, proper love her. Like really, really.

- Charlie McDonnel

And I do. I hope you do

_________________________

This Journal solely belongs to Richard Gaberiel of Morosetown! 

Journal Entry #1: The Loathesome girl 

You should first know that I did, in fact, buy this book! I didn't take it, I didn't steal it! I bought it with money that I have gathered for a MONTH!! AND IT WAS NOT A STUPID PURCHASE!!! All day I have heard from Nora "Why didn't you just let me steal it for you!?" "Who really reads these days" "Why do you need to write thoughts in a book? I never thought you had that many" WELL I DO!! All I do is talk to that girl all day and all night. I never get time alone. And she is always getting into trouble. For instace when we met, she impersonated some of the kings guard, got me fired, stole a priceless jewel-encrusted sword AND kidnapped me to come along with her!!!!!

You cam willingly, you liar! Stop reading my journal Nora!

That story is way to long for right now. I just thought I would introduce myself, since I will be writing in here for a while. I am Richard. My Mum called me Richie. My friends called me Gabe, because my last name is Gaberiel, but you can call me whatever you want. Not that you can. You're a book. But whoever is reading these words on the page. Hello. I hope your alright. Because I'm not. This.Girl.Is.Driving.Me.Insane!!!

Right now, I am sitting on a log. In the middle of a pasture. It was Nora turn to go look for food and that was forty five minutes ago. She always does this! She has either found a new type of worm or decided to make a flower tiara instead or is fighting an evil fish overlord. We have been travelling to a larger town north of here. But we have been on foot for a week, and a ride is hard to come by. So far we have only been carried on a small donkey cart for three miles before we had to part ways. 

I have to go. I think I heard Nora shouting for me. 

And a gunshot. God not again!

R.G. 

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Richard shut his journal and tucked that and his quill back in his pack. He was hearing Nora yelling for him. 

"NORA I AM OVER HERE!!!"

"RICHARRRDDDD I GOTTTT USSSS SOMETHINGGGGG!!!!!"

"I AM IN THE PASTURE!!" He yelled back.

He could hear something fast approaching, but when he listened carefully, he knew it wasen't Nora.

Nora doesn't have four legs. He gulped. Or hooves.

Nora Nightengale cantered through the pasture with a grin of sucess across her mug.

"Guess who I borrowed???" Nora rang out.

"No." Was all Richard had to say.

"You are close its Noah. Noah, Richard, Richard, Noah"

"No." Was all Richard had to say.

"Well, that better turn into a yes. And soon." Another gunshot was fired. "Because you know when I said "I borrowed" Noah?"

"Norraa!" Was all he had to say. I guess it was too late. He might as well swing on the horse. If he didn't they would be in jail, so there was nothing to lose. With a long face and his head hung low he tied his and Nora's packs to the horse quickly, before swinging up behind Nora. Another shot rang out. 

"We better hurry or they will catch up." Richard sighed. "Why do you always have to steal things!"

"Because when I was younger, people would just give me things. Now they expect me to work for it. Fat chance!" Nora cracked the reins and Noah was off on a canter again. "Onwards, steed! To exciting days, and enthralling nights." She said in a booming, animated voice.

"I bet you don't even know what enthralling means!" Accused Richard.

"I don't. But Noah knows what bucking means. And I believe I can stay on this steed longer than you can".

With a gulp and a sigh, Richard kept quiet, and let Nora brag on how she managed to steal "Such a beauty".

He didn't like it, but he had to admit, it was better than walking for another week. 

[shinecrazydiamond1]

[brightlightsbigtoronto]

Me and My romanian Beauty at the beach

[brightlightsbigtoronto]

Today was a day I was glad to have a Hank Green

Today was lonely. You know, those days at work when there really is not much to do, so you have way to much alone time with your thoughts. You are thinking about your future, your schooling for the next year, where you are going to be the year after that, if you will make it in your field, if you really want to be in that field, where your life is headed, if you are going to be sucessful...

Today was a day I hated thinking about me, because I was thinking about me way to much.

It was also a ten hour work day. I was up by nine home by eight thirty. Said hello to my parents and then came downstiars to workout and shower. And then of course get my daily dose of youtube.

Today is Esther day. A day that almost slipped by me. A day when you celebrate the people you love and the ones you care about most, and you tell them that. Even if you never really share those love-y feelings most of the time.

And Hank Green reminded me. Hank Green, the king of Nerdfighters, the bringer of science, the collector of knowledge, Hank Green remineded me that today of all days I should love.

The Vlog Brothers have helped me out of some terrible times and knowing that there video are going to be there every week, have kept me balanced in some frustrating and scary times in my life. The Vlog brothers kept me sane, and still remind me to search for knowledge, to always be cool with nerdyness, and of course to love.

Happy Esther Day. I love all your Nerdfighters, and thank you to John and Hank Green for keeping us all together. 

Hank Greens Video Today: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oJCfXb4Ci9g&feature=g-all-u 

[brightlightsbigtoronto]

Insomnia is when your nose gets cold

Your in bed, just finished reading a relaxing chapter of a classic novel. The lights go off, you set your alarm. You close your eyes and find the perfect...THE PERFECT position to fall asleep in. Your head is cradled in a beautiful ratio of blanket and pillow. Your arms are in comfort heaven and your legs are on vacation in the matress islands. You head is draining of ideas. None of your muscles are tense and you feel like a lovely, floppy, blob. Your eyes flutter shut, you have that last sigh of breath before your brain shuts off. You are headed to dreamland, awaiting another day to start.

But then your nose gets cold. And that ruins it all, doesn't it? 

[brightlightsbigtoronto]

Hulliette: My Volvo

It was a surreal moment. Wanting to cry. Wanting to not leave. But the hours grew late and we were standing in the newly watered grass, and our toes were becoming more and more dam, and the light was fading at a quickening pace. After a while, "Goodbye" is kind of said silently as you close your car door and turn the key.

My friend Hulliette is leaving. For a long time. Its hard to say goodbye. Especially if you won't be able to say hello until next year. I wanted to stay on that sidewalk with Hulliette for weeks, to hang onto this last moment with her. To run in the wet grass, to do cartwheels on the sidewalk, to keep talking so we woulden't have to say "see you! Have fun!". But when you are driving at night, and becoming more tired, getting on your way is more imidiate than wishing for time to stop.

There was three of us on the sidewalk saying goodbyes; Hulliette, Hannah and I. With outstreched arms we all embraced one last time, then did our best to dry off our feet from the grass. The other girl and I slipped into our cars and drove away.

It was when we hit our first stoplight that it hit me that Hulliette was gone. Hannah was in her car two lanes away from me. The light had just turned red so we had time to contemplate in our own automobiles about saying goodbye to our friend.

The light was still red, and I heard a rev of an engine behind me. I thought it was Hannah so I looked over. Then this tiny black volvo speeds between us, engines blazing, through the red light and over the ramp. I was dumbfounded. He obviously saw us stopped, because he went right in the middle of us through a red light. I looked over at Hannah who had the same dumbstruck look on her face. Then we both started laughing from shock. Finally the light turned green. We each pressed the gas and waved goodbye eachother and set off in different directions.

I don't know why, but that volvo made me feel better. My good friend is going to be that volvo. I am stopped at this stoplight and she is headed all over the world. She is going exploring and expeariening new things. She is the trailblazing. She is learning, loving, enjoying, exciting her senses, opening herself to different tastes, smells, textures. She is bounding over that ramp into a whole new life. I guess going through a red light could be scary, but once you get past that intersection, life would be a lot sweeter.

The volvo is definatley on its way. I'm just waiting for my light to turn green.

[brightlightsbigtoronto]

The Character Cave - And yes I am quite mad

When I think about them, I am always moving about them. Through them. Like between all the bodies. Sometimes the cave is teaming with little creatures I have for the world. And sometimes the cave just has a few faces. But I love them all no matter how many there are. 

The character cave is a place where all my characters go before a story is made for them. Some of the characters are very thought out, some may not even have a story yet. Some are quite angry at me right now. They have been in my head for what seems like hundreds of years and the words are not ready to come out onto paper. Before they were quite nice. Had lots of great qualities about them. And I still see those great qualities, I do, but when they yell in my head it gets quiet disorienting. 

I like to focus on new ideas though, new characters! Because really, you used to have a pontiac sunfire, but now you have a G6, a whole new exciting person to think about and learn about and create a history for and think about different adventures they would go on! Its an amazing feeling choose a future for someone. But soon you bored of your G6 and your on a bus one day and then a rocketship type character pops into your head and, well, its a rocketship! Who could resist!?

So I should describe my cave. The cave is bleak. The walls are dark, muddy brown. Some Stalactites (those pointy things in the cave that make them look like they have teeth) hang from the ceiling and some are around the edges of the cave. There are also some rocks for the characters to sit on around the edge as well, but the middle is just a flat surface. The cave has no exit. It is a rugged oval shape. 

But the cave is not supposed to be the interesting part. The cave is just the home of all the characters and different things they can get into. Usually there is ten to twenty of them in there. There are more, I really do not know where they get to, or how they move in and out of the cave. Maybe it is just my mind wanting to think about certain characters and blocks all the others out. In conclusion, since the characters can move in and out, I have just deducted that my cave is magical. 

Some of my characters react differently to the cave. For instance there are these two girls who I thought up years ago, and they were best friends, but since thier stint in the cave has become longer and longer, they have grown to dispise eachother. These two spend most of thier time yelling at eachother and then at me. I am known as "Creator", which is odd. I try telling them my name but they don't want to interact with the narrator for some reason. I can see why the two girls are mad at me. Being in an big giant cave all most of thier life, I assume it would get boring. 

The two characters I am interested in right now are Nora Nightingale and Gabriel Richard.

Now, how amazing are those names! Those two names could conquer cities. Take down empires. Rule the world. And they are only just kids.

Well not kids. Apparitions in my head. I thought of Nora first. She was a fire cracker, all day in my head buzzing around doing all sorts of fun child things any child would do! She played with imaginary friends (yes imaginary friends, inside a imaginary cave, filled with imaginary characters. Yes ha.ha.ha I can feel all those inception jokes). But then she played with sparklers and brought her bike in to ride around which was a bright yellow and red (do not ask me how she got a bike in there). Then she started making up her own things. Like fire Whizzez, and eating Plunk Strugles, and pet Winkle she name Rapshot. She made many of the other characters more joyful, rather than staying in a sad old cave. She really brought up spirits!

But then walked in Gabriel Richard. Cool, fun, crazy Gabriel. He gave Nora a run for her money. When he came into the cave she quieted down. He was an older kid and obviously cooler, with black and white sneakers with untied laces and a blue and yellow leather jacket with his name across the back. To her, he was quite a big deal.

They did not play together at first. But Gabriel was being given a hard time by the adults on why he should tie up his shoe laces instead of tripping over them every other minute. He told them a quite a few rude things on why adults should mind thier own busienss, and then a bunch of the adults were quite angry. But Nora came in wheels blazing with her bike loaded with two very large water guns. It was one of the biggest battles the cave had ever seen, and although Nora and Gabe were out numbered, they had the weapons. When the water soakage was over, the two sat against a Stalactites catching their breath from the fight. Gabe just looked over at Nora, chuckled softly and said: "You're alright".

They were best friends ever since. 

[brightlightsbigtoronto]

The Princess of Lithia Part II

I remember my parents final speech to us like it was yesterday. All of our Keepers were sitting in the corner of the Sitting Room and all of our bags were packed beside them. The Sitting Room was an elegant room in the house. It was a beautiful relaxing terracotta colour with gold detailing along the walls. The couches were elegant but comfy. The ceiling was enormously high, so my parents voices had a small echo when they spoke, even in a whisper. My parents were kneeling in front of us when they told us the news. We were sitting on one of the comfy couches. I was in between my brothers, holding their hands. 

The King and Queen said to all of us that we were going to have to be brave without them while they finish the war. My father said that he would see us soon. My mother had silent tears running down her face when she said that all of us would have to be split up. I could be hidden easily, but it would raise too much attention if two identical boys came into town when Lithia was still in battle and the Magna children had not been seen in weeks. They also didn't want us to leave Lithia as it was our home. And then they said their goodbyes:

"Farewell, my Love." My mother said as she sobbed into my shoulder. I never felt her hold me as tight as she did then. She set me down onto the ground and my father was knealing before me. 

"Goodbye, my Light", he said. Then he kissed my forehead and hugged me. Unfortunatley I would not let him go. He tried to pry me off of him, but I was too strong and I did not want to let go of him. I sobbed and sobbed and yelled no until I could barley breathe. 

With the help of two Keepers, they finally unchained my grip from around my fathers shoulders. In which I screamed I screamed and screamed for them not to go. I looked back at my mother and my father. My mother looked down at me with tears running down her face. She whispered my fathers name and then unchained her necklace. It was a simple gold chain with the crest of Lithia as a pendent. Then she took his hand and removed one of his Lithian rings (a King recieves a ring for each province in Lithia) and then she took her own engagement ring off, and slipped it on a necklace. "There" she said as she crouched down in front of me and put the necklace around my neck. "Now you will have us wherever you go. I want these back when we see each other again." As she smiled at me, the tears on her cheecks made distorted patterns and started moving around her dimples. I said "Thank-you Muma" hugged her one more time. My father wiped away my tears and then told me to go kiss my brothers. 

My brothers did not understand the heaviness of the situation. Even I did not grasp that I may never see my parents again. I just thought I wouldn't see them for a week or two, and when the war was over they would come get me and we would live in our castle again. I think my brothers just thought we were going on some sort of vacation. They both clasped onto my hand. I kissed both of their foreheads and wished them well. Both of them said "Bywe Wibby" in unison. They were not crying, they just looked sad. My father nodded at my Keeper, and she took my hand and we left the large sitting room. That was the last time I was at my home. It was also the last time I saw my family.

Although my parents hated to see us go, it was the right decision. It gave their children a two week head start in hiding  before the country fell to Miser. My parents put everyone under the impression that the children were still in the castle. Every night, my parents would go into a small room that had a small broadcasting device to talk to the people of the Lithia. They would talk about war efforts and what they are doing to help. They also talked about us and how they were handling their children in this dangerous time. Our Keepers captured sound bytes of us, so it sounded like we were still in the castle playing. I have heard stories that the head Misers searched everywhere in the castle to look for us during that time. They searched provinces near Lithian City, thinking that we had only escaped for a couple hours. They uncovered nothing in their search and we were all pronounced dead in front of the our people, saying we died when part of the castle was burned to the ground, during a Miser victory party in the castle. They didn't bother come looking where I was. I was too far to have moved in the amount of time they thought I had to escape. 

Now I live in the mountains. My keeper's name is Katrina. But I call her Kate when we are alone. She teaches at the school that I attend. When the war was going on people in the Lithian City (my hometown) had to be dispersed all over the country so she applied for a teaching job for her, and a student position for "her niece" or Celaria, my new name in hiding. My lovely hair was chopped off and I was forced to wear ratty clothes as a disguise. I was also put under a hot lamp for hours to give me more freckles. They pieced my ears and I had to wear colour contacts for the first three years in hiding to change my eye colour. Even I didn't know Libby was under all this Celaria. 

When we got to our new home I cried for days. I kept getting nose bleeds because of the radical change in altitude. I missed my family, I missed my brothers. I had never been put in school with other children before so that was hard and I had to learn a whole new backstory. 

I was now Celaria Flint. I had no parents because they died during the first round of attacks on Lithian City. I had never been to school because I had to help in my family's bake shop (I used to help the cook at the castle bake cakes all the time, so if anyone asked me about baking cakes I would already know how). I told them I used to play instruments, and that I had no brothers of sisters. I told them my Aunt Katrina found me outside my families burnt down bakery and decided I needed to be raised in a place away from the war front, so she applied to be a teacher out in the mountains. I now live in the town of Chatham. It is a small town overlooking a far drop to the Eastern Sea. When I arrived Chatham was just a town, but many more people have arrived since the attacks in the south, so it is now a small city.

Katrina could keep her name because it is not as unique as mine. She teaches ages 6-12, so I could be in her classes growing up, which did help. She helped me become comfortable with my classmates and anytime someone asked me a question about my family, I would say I did not know and I would ask "My Aunt".

Life is slow up here. I long for the days I walked down the cobbled streets with Muma, as we strolled through the market place with a few of our cooks before a big dinner when Consulates and Lords of different provinces would be in attendance for a meal. There was an old man who name I never knew, but he always introduced himself as "The Deli-Man". Every time we walked down into the market place, he would yell with surprise and "Princess! It has been too long. What is that in your hand?" I would move my hand from my side and look at it, and there in the middle of my palm would be a piece of sausage. I would thank the deli man, and he would bow and just say "Welcome to market!" My mother would always giggle when the man came up to us, and he was always so jolly.

The man is dead now. Or at least he has to be. He was much older than my father and his father. His legs would always look so weak, his beard was longer than me, and his wrinkles were the deepest grooves in skin I had ever seen.

I always think about this. In my old life, I always think about who is dead. Everyone I knew. Most Lords from different provinces were against the invasion of Miser. All my staff was most likely tortured for information about us. It is a sad truth that if I did return, not many people would remember me. 

[brightlightsbigtoronto]

In case you all were wondering, my friend is doing a summer movie challenge which is what the last piece was about. I welcome you to join it! http://summermoviechallenge.tumblr.com/ P.S. She is pretty dope so check her out too!

[brightlightsbigtoronto]

It's Never Been About What Meets The Eye

A movie can have great actors. Amazing editing, beautiful title and credits. A glorious landscape. A movie can have anything to make a movie the most magical piece of art you have ever seen. But a movie without a great score, is not a movie to be shared. 

When I close my eyes and think of movies that have blown me out of the water, its the sounds of it that I remember. I guess it started with Harry Potter:

bum-bum-ba-ba-bum-ba-baaa-bum. bum-ba-ba-bum-ba-bum. (ba-bum) bu-bum-ba-ba-bum-ba-bAAA-ba-bum-ba-ba-ba-ba-bum-ba-bum (ba-bum)

I grew up with the harry potter books, my father read us a chapter each night, me watching him flip the page. And it felt like the score was taken right out of my memories. That those few notes I had known forever. It just took a composer by the name of John Williams to find them in my subconscious.

That is one of my first sensations of hearing a score. A great piece of classical music, but made more magical because it was accompanied by a visual representation of my childhood (that being Harry Potter and the Philosopher Stone. None of this Sorcerer's Stone Crap).

And then after that it was love. Any score that I fell in love with I must have. They transport me from your regular day to an amazing adventure.

A score from lets say Batman can make studying like defeating the Riddler's riddle. The Riddler is now your professor and you are batmans sidekick (not Robin, have your own name like the "Defender" or "The Shredder". Mine is the "Winged Whambouse"), helping him with any information each step of the way to solve the riddle (and to get your grade).

Or a hike can be like a quest to mordor! You and your companions are out for a picnic, but this picnic is far more epic! There is tree branches, and you have grass stains, but fear not! You will reach the perfect patch of grass to lay your lunchon on. Tally-ho young friends! Tally ho!

A drive down the coast can be infested with the Pirates of the Carribean soundtrack to feel the most bad-ass as possible when rounding a bend. Or a simple score from a Jane Austen movie, can set the mood for a posh day at home laying in the sun.

To think of stories, I need music. I need something to set the mood, to inspire me. Any type of music can do that, but a score already have a purpose, to move a plot foreward. It is just my job to find another plot that will be suitable with the music. 

The score is from the movie, but the music can change your mood, your thoughts, your imagination. It takes the adventures from the screen to inside your head. If you have seen the movie many times you know what happens at that specific note, or rumble, or flute solo. In your head you make up stories to go along with the music. It memorable. Its enjoyable. And thats what makes movies magical for me.

A movie is an amazing piece of artwork, for humans to love. It can shock and relax, it can change someones mood. It can make people think differently. A score helps in that regard as well. It changes the moods of scenes. It gives cues on what will happen. But a score I feel you can take with you. You can think on a score. You can listen until your ears hurt. In my life at least, scores have changed my life.

So next time you are at a movie, take a listen. If you like what you hear grab some ear buds and go for a walk. You will be surprised what pops into your head when you hear the enchanting sounds of a score. It has for me anyway.