Mixed Tape

I am currently working on Daniel’s mix, trying to decide which order I should put everything in.  The first song is “Mixed Tape” by Jack’s Mannequin, and I hope he likes it, because if he doesn’t I’ll feel bad.  *grins* I doubt he’ll hate it thought–or at least he won’t tell me.

I literally ripped apart my library today trying to find good stuff for his mix.  I’m really indecisive about it, because some of the stuff I want to put on there probably isn’t something he’s going to like.  I know some of the music that he listens to and it’s a little bit different from his.  He hate’s a lot of the stuff I listen to, but what one of my guy friends doesn’t?  I put “Mr. Brightside” by The Killers on there for him, and that’s only one that I know for sure he’ll actually like–we had a long discussion about it.

I need to be writing my novel right now, but at the moment, I’m content to be writing about the little things that make my life mine.  Making mixes for example.  I love making mixes.  The only part I don’t like is ripping the song to the computer and burning it to a cd.  Takes FOREVER.  But, when all is said and done, I have fun doing so, because if there’s one thing I love more than reading and writing, it’s introducing people to the music I listen to.  It’s just a good feeling.  Music makes everything better. 

Speaking of making everything better, I need to take Excederin, because my head’s killing me.  I need to start wearing my glasses, because I read for several hours straight on the weekends.  Par example, I spent two hours reading Neil Gaimain’s The Sand Man: Volume 4, The Seasons of Mist.  Although, the headache may be from the paint fumes that I was around while painting shutters today.  I’ll get over it.

Character development coming along for the modern rewrite of Tarot Cards right now.  Ramxpage and I are collaborating on cover ideas.  It’s not going to be very easy.  Once we have sketches and the final designs, I will of course post them.  My friend suggested self publishing, so maybe that way I can choose what the cover looks like.  My character has taken on aspects of my behavior of late, and she’s become really annoying.  To William at least.  I love it.  I’m going to go edit and rewrite now.  Bye! 

Curbxstomp Is, Sadly, Not Writing At The Moment

I should be working on my book,  but that’s not happening because I’m talking to Austen on the phone, and writing this.  I need to be working!!!  Instead, I’m ranting about Valentine’s day. :D  Never mind, not ranting anymore, because my dad’s a jerk and just kicked me off the phone because it was “too late”.  Stupid.  I don’t even care. 

I don’t hate Valentine’s day, but it can be really discomfiting sometimes and I hate that, like, a lot.  So, I’m not like the people who are out to slaughter people who celebrate Valentine’s day with their sweethearts. 

Anyway, back on subject.  I have a new main character that I was going to try to work on, but I have to find the paper I was writing on earlier today, and then I can elaborate.  I need to work on TCABR, but unfortunately I’m kind of stuck. :(  Sucks, but I’ll hopefully move on soon.  It was doing so great because my anger was kind of motivating it…it’s not anymore.  William got really angry, and now I’ve got all this anger and no channel for it, so maybe I have to get mad again.  Which shouldn’t be difficult with the way my life’s going. 

Silence

“Why do we fall, Bruce?” 

I’ve reached some quiet time today when I was editing my story, so while I contemplate how to use it, I am going to post about what’s been going on.

Yesterday, I watched all of my comic book/sexy main men movies to occupy my whirling mind.  Van Helsing, Hellboy, Batman Begins.  I lost use of the tv because I had been watching movies from around 1:30 to 8:oo.  So, they told me I should do something else besides watch tv.  I was watching these movies to help my writing, though, so it was all for two good causes: to make me stop thinking, and to help my villains.  I need to work on my antagonists because I am so uninterested in them. 

My writing has officially begun to take on aspects of my current anger and anxiety and distress.  William has become really angry, and I don’t want to write him because I don’t know what he’ll do, and if he does the wrong thing…I’ll have to change the whole plot.  Rebecca has become somewhat weaker, becoming my softer side that I try not to admit having.  I’m in the quiet time of my edit, and she is elaborating on the freedom that I have just given her, and she has no idea what to do with it.  I have no idea what to do with it. 

I’ve been listening to Moulin Rouge soundtrack for the past two days while trying to recuperate.  I can’t sleep, and when I am, I have freaky dreams that usually end up with me disoriented and ready to cry at about three in the morning.  Not to mention I keep forgetting to turn my alarm clock off, so it’s like going off at 6:10 in the morning and I can’t go back to sleep.

I have resigned myself to the world of Rachel Morgan, Kim Harrison’s novels.  It’s my alternate reality, and I spend a lot of time there, because Rachel can always kick some ass to make me feel better.  But, unfortunately, I’m reading the saddest book, so by the time I get to the end, I’ll probably be crying, but hopefully by the time I get to the end, it won’t be as bad as the first and second time reading it.  It was awful.  I did cry.  I am getting a mourning arm band for the character that dies in this novel, and I’m excited.  I’ll put up a picture of it.  I’m also hopefully getting the toe tag that Rachel gets because they thought she died in a boat explosion in the third novel.  Good stuff.

Rachel Ramxpage and I were having a “people free weekend” but that’s becoming harder and harder.  I want to call her, but I know that’s she been really irritated with everyone lately, but I don’t know if I’m included in that everyone category.  She was very supportive though, and I know that she wasn’t irritated with me all day.

I should be editing my Students 2.0 submission, but Lindsay hasn’t contacted me yet–we’re going to do it through AIM.  I don’t know what the time difference is, either.  So, I’m waiting for that.   I need to do some writing–it may keep me from thinking.

“So we can learn to pick ourselves back up.”
-Thomas Wayne, Batman Begins

The Chase

We could hear them behind us, forcing us to run faster.  My legs seemed to have a mind of their own.  William was a little ahead in our race against the werewolves.  If someone should see us…I stopped the thought. I was no longer at the top of the social chain.  I needn’t worry about the little things.  William’s arm caught me about the waist and he flung me into the alley.  I stumbled but regained my footing.  I sprinted to catch William, edging the corner.  Brick cut my arm and I gasped at the sharp pain.

William turned to look at me, legs still taking him quickly away.  “Rebecca!” He shouted, stopping.  Why had he–

Something slammed into my back and I hit the ground with such force I was breathless and my whole body was pained.  A wolf, easily three times my weight, was pinning me to the ground.  The wolf was not looking at me.  It was looking at William.  Fear clamped my mouth shut and my body incapable of movement.  My breathing had stopped altogether and my lungs were begging for breath.  A small trail of breath slipped through my nose, drawing the wolf’s attention back to me.  William had not yet moved, and I was scared.

“Rebecca, do not move, whatever you do.  Do not be afraid.”  William’s voice was calm, but I could not see him, which did not help my panicked state.

A growl trickled from the wolf’s enormous muzzle, and a glob of saliva fell onto my neck.  I whimpered and William said, “Rebecca, hush.  It is all right.  You will be all right.”  By the tone in his voice, I did not know who he was trying to reassure–me or him.  Either way, I do not think he was very successful.

The wolf ran his long tongue over my face and gave a bark that left my ears ringing.  He then looked at William, and moved away, going back to the second werewolf.  Together, they turned and ran into the darkness.

My breath was coming in short gasps, and I was on the verge of tears.  Do not cry, I told myself.  You are weak if you cry!  At least cry in a private place.  I sat up, hissing at the burning sensation on my arm.  The cloth was ripped.  Blood stained as well.  My arm burned and the brick had cut a rather large, rather jagged, gash.  I stood up, my legs wobbling.  William caught me by my forearm, careful of the wound.

“Let’s get ourselves home, shall we?  We need to clean you up, and then I say we get some sleep.”  With that, he left me to catch up as he walked ahead.

William walked confidently, like he had nothing to fear on these streets–not even those enormous wolves.  Wolves.  Why was that word grating on the back of my mind?  Oh, sweet Jesus.  “William,” I whispered, trying to keep my breathing steady and not frantic.  He turned around to look at me, head tilted to the side in that adorable expression of confusion.  “Those were werewolves,” I told him, my eyes pinched in nervousness.

He walked closer to me.  “You catch on very quick, Rebeca Winter.  An admirable trait.  I did not realize you carried it,” he told me.

“That’s why they understood you, and why they left when you told them to, correct?” I turned around, looking behind me in fear.  “They would not come after us again, would they?  Not after they attacked us the first time?”

“Not tonight, Rebecca.” He took my arm in his warm hand.  “Not tonight.”