Esther Teaches How to Draw Still Life

Hello everybody!

As you all know, I am an accomplished arter. My arting skills are the top of the chain.

Just look at that ... thing.

Why, for example, Leonardo da Vinci just complimented me on my marvelous fruit fly picture the other day. Anyway, Blogger isn't letting me upload any of my great pictures to show you from my computer .... so I guess I can't give you an example. It's a shame that my arting skills will remain undiscovered.

Wait!

*Rushes to grab a pencil*

I can show you my mad arting skills via video! (For some reason, and I kid you not, Blogger will let me do that.)

Let's see. Since you are all novices, I need to think of something easy to show you how to draw. Ah, I know! Still life! I'll show you how to draw a flower or something. Do you like flowers? Good! In  this video, I'll show you how to draw a flower vase.

Link to video here!

I hope that you found my video most informative. Until next time!

Esther

Stream of Consciousness -- Once More!

Hello everyone! I just realized that it would be such a terrible shame if this blog lost momentum again. That would be so nasty. Kind of like what you'd imagine Godzilla's dirty laundry to smell like. Anywho, I can't think of anything to post, so I just thought I would make this up as I go along. You know, write whatever's on my mind.

While the first thing that popped into my mind was a brain floating in a pickle jar, the image quickly changed to two ballerinas dancing over the Alaskan tundra. Neither of those are particularly interesting converstation starters, I guess. I've never been good with conversation. Because of this, I generally let people approach me first. I will only approach someone first for a conversation if

1) Said someone is family
2) Said someone is a friend
3) Said someone is a talking lizard
4) Said someone is a very attractive member of the opposite sex.

Of course, 4 can only go so far. There is a certain threshold of cuteness, you see. If a boy is too cute, my brain shuts down and all I can do is giggle and gargle in his general direction. Like, I took my siblings out to Hardees for lunch, and I saw this really hunky army guy. Dang, was he a catch. We like totally made eye contact while I was getting lemonade from the fountain drink machine. But I couldn't say anything. He could have been my soul mate, darn it. Alas, it wasn't meant to be. So I drove off into the sunset, cursing my misfortune.

Speaking of cursing, apparently I can't drive without cursing at least once. I need to fix that. My issue will probably dwindle as my driving skills increase, and I therefore collide into less objects.

When I said "objects", I thought of a wind-up music box. What do you think when you hear the word "object"? It's interesting how the human mind works. Everyone thinks  differently. Scratch that. Most people think the same. For example, when I mentioned that there was a cute army guy earlier you probably imagined a tall, muscular lad with blond hair wearing camouflage fatigues. Not that it's bad that people think the same. It would be nice if we were all on the same page.

Speaking of pages, if I had a green tiger that would be really cool. I would be like, "Dude, I have a green tiger." And everyone would be jealous and wish that their tigers were green. But even better, I want an armadillo lizard. I mean, look at them!



I would name my lizard Amontillado. Everyone will be jealous that their exotic armadillo lizards aren't named Amontillado. I think that Amontillado should be our resident animal mascot.

SLOSHY THE KAPPA: Hey! What about me?

Sloshy, you're our resident mythical being mascot.

ALMONDO: What about me? I thought

Almondo, you're our resident fan-service mascot.

ALMONDO: I don't like Amontillado. His name is hard to say, but it's suspiciously similar to mine.

I grow bored of this. I need to talk about something else --



OMG SOCKS!!!!!!!! I <3 Socks!

I love cute socks almost as much as I love Batman-themed underwear. Woo! Go socks! Go! What do you think, Amontillado?

AMONTILLADO: ...

You know, I think you and another silent fellow would get along! Say hello, Potato!

POTATO: ...

AMONTILLADO: ...

POTATO: ....

AMONTILLADO: ...

OMG AMONTILLADO THE ARMADILLO LIZARD AND POTATO FOREVER! I <3 POTATOES AND LIZARDS!

We should have a wedding, yo! A totally awesome wedding!

Hmm, I don't remember eating this second ice cream sandwich. Did somebody put an empty wrapper on my desk when I wasn't looking?

It doesn't matter. I LOVE ice cream! Huzzah!

I'm going to tell you something very personal. It has to do with noses. And fear. It's a fear involving noses. You see, I'm afraid of standing above anyone because there is a chance that they will look up my nose. Good heavens, the things that could be in there. I mean, I have a clean nose. But I've seen some gross noses -- ew.

But I like ears. I have a thing for ears. Just look at ears. I could marry an ear. Don't judge me, okay? Everybody has a favorite body part, and I find ears to be absolutely adorable. I discovered this from a young age.

Feet make me mad, though. They are ugly, ugly things.  I have collapsed arches, a botched foot-surgery, and a couple other things that make it hard for me to walk every now and then. I would gladly trade my traitorous feet for a black man's. People would walk up to me and say,

"Child, are those black man feet?"

And I would say,

"Yes, yes they are."

Good times.

Imagine, me jogging across the beach with my new black man feet, smiling and laughing and tossing my hair. I would cast a flirtacious look at hunky military dude, and we would hold hands and run off together and I would finally have one of them "boyfriends" I always hear about. We would watch The Lord of the Rings and eat popcorn, and have a Nerf war afterwards. Hunk would let me win, though, because I suck at shooting things.

Good times, indeed.


Esther

Esther Plays: Dishonored

Usually around the scheduled school breaks, I find a video game to occupy my time. This is because by the time breaks come along, I find that I desire nothing else than to sprawl myself out on a couch with a three-foot long Twizzler in one hand and a game controller in the other. I had been interested in playing Dishonored for a while, after I saw the intriguing trailer. (Ages 16+)

I'm a big fan of steam-punk style games. I'm also a big fan of the stealth genre, ever since Beyond Good and Evil. I have just recently finished the game. So, how good was it?

Plot

This is the tale of Corvo Attano, the silent and unsurprisingly handsome bodyguard of the Empress of a fictional land.

Don't you want to hug him?

The empire is in chaos. A deadly plague is sweeping the city and turning everyone into angry jerks. (This is probably because they are vomiting blood and their brains are turning into mush, but manners are still important.) Just as Corvo gets home from a long trip, the Empress he is supposed to be protecting is killed in front of his eyes. In other words, he's terrible at his job. He is framed by the government for his boss's murder, and is sentenced to be executed. With the help of some allies, he escapes and sets out to take revenge against those who wronged him. Apparently Corvo is bad at protecting people because he's really, really good at knocking people out.

The plot is streamlined and easy to follow, with just enough intrigue to keep you interested. There are very few plot twists, however, and all are predictable. As fantastic as the setting is, with its brooding skies, strange machines, and dilapidated buildings, there isn't a lot of story here. As you traverse the surroundings, it would be nice to have larger snippets of the history of the city you're trying to change. It would allow for an immersing experience. However, the main plot is pleasing and has a tight narrative, so getting bored shouldn't be an issue.

If you chose to kill everyone who has wronged you, the story acts out differently. The more you kill, the more the plague spreads, the more plague victims you see, and more rats try to rip the flesh off your bones. You also  get a different ending.

If you chose to be a saint, then you get a happier ending and less things trying to kill you at the end of the story. You can get through the game without killing anyone, a plot which I chose to follow.

The variations for the story are very nice, however each of the endings are unsatisfying. For all the work you put into not killing people, which can be very hard, you get a rather short and non-immersing ending. If you chose to join the dark side, surprise, you get a rather short and non-immersing ending. I would have rather had one really good ending than have several slapped-together ones.


Gameplay

Gameplay is the best part of Dishonored. Because the way you act affects the story, you may want to play through again just to see how your actions affected the world around you. It feels great to successfully get through a level without being detected by anyone, or to jump from a high building directly onto the person you're targeting.

The stealth aspect of the game is made stronger with the presence of magic. A magical spirit has taken interest in you, and has blessed you with the power of being awesome. These powers include teleportation, seeing through walls, controlling people's minds, summoning swarms of rats, and turning your enemies into ash. In order to get these powers, you buy them with runes, magical objects that you find throughout the game. You will probably find yourself searching everywhere for these runes, and it is a lot of fun to collect them all.

However, you don't need any powers to beat the game, really. And only two powers are actually incredibly useful. The other powers, while flashy, only offer different solutions to the problems you can solve in a more straight-forward way. Most of the powers are offensively based, which doesn't offer a lot for the players who are trying to get through the game without killing anyone. In the end, I had a ton of runes to spend because there were no powers left that I hadn't maxed out that weren't used to slaughter rooms of people.

If you do use the powers to kill people, you will find the game ridiculously easy. People really don't stand a chance against Corvo when he is a demi-god of insane proportions.

They turned to ash a few seconds after this was taken.

This imbalance is a little infuriating, but then it's also cool to blast your way through your enemies in a flashy, dramatic blur. It's kind of like you're a ballerina dancing through the city with strobe lights sewn onto your tutu, except the strobe lights happen to be lasers.

The combat is fleshed out and stealth is really good, so you'll have fun however you play. It's a shame that the game isn't fleshed out in many other areas, however. Your enemies are all clones of each other, just with different faces. There are a lot of cases of unique dialogue, but you'll also hear the same pieces of dialogue repeated every level. If I took a shot every time I heard someone say, "Stupid rats, stupid plague, stupid god****", I would die of alcohol poisoning. It's also strange how sometimes your enemies are blissfully unaware of you at times, but a few moments later have superhuman hearing.

It's also a shame that everyone in the city is basically evil. Since there are so many soldiers, you would think one of them was at least a moral sort of person. However, everyone is corrupt. The lack of variation makes it very easy for all your enemies to blur together, and make you question if the city is even worth saving.

You can also collect bone charms, which offer superficial bonuses to your character. For example, one lets your breathe underwater longer. Some of them are very useful, but for some reason I never felt inclined to hunt for them.

Fighting, sneaking, and infiltrating are great fun. It's also fun to find no-kill solutions to your enemies. The city is built in such a way that you'll find there are half a dozen ways to get into any building, and it's fun to test them out.

Graphics

The art direction is very good, and the buildings are clean-cut and clear. I especially like the lighting, which seems perfectly placed. I found that the faces of most characters were rather ugly and less detailed compared to the rest of the surroundings, which is a shame. Still, a very pretty game. It runs very slow if your computer doesn't have a good graphics card.

Sound

The voice acting of this game is awesome. Corvo never speaks, which is something I find kind of stupid, but all of the other characters do. The villains are especially well done, which isn't saying much because everyone is basically evil. However, I found the delivery of all the lines very well-done, even though the lines are often repeated a lot. There isn't much in the way of a soundtrack, which is all and good. It would be kind of hard to get in the stealthy mood with To Glory playing in the background. Sometimes I found sounds to miss their cue, like when a bottle drops and the sound of broken glass comes too slowly.

Overall

Dishonored is a good game, but something holds it from greatness. While the gameplay is fleshed out and there are a lot of things to collect, plot is lacking and character interactions are shallow. The only way to humanely deal with enemies is to sneak by them or to choke them out, which gets rather repetitive. The characters represented are usually only on the darker side of the personality spectrum, and it would be nice to have enemies who weren't so obviously bad. It would have added depth to the game. All three of the endings are unsatisfying. Still, it's a great game and should not be missed just because it misses a few places.

8/10
 

The Wonderful World of ... Potatoes

Hello everyone!

It's nine o'clock on a ... *checks calendar* Wendesday. I just ran up and down the stairs for fifteen minutes in an effort to stay in shape. I am very tired. But if Hannah can post, then so can I.

So I began thinking of thinks to write about. There is an ocean of ideas to write about, but when I stick my hand in the ocean, I lift my hand and see that it's dry. It's like I'm wearing an idea-proof rubber glove. But I can't take the glove off! Even when I so desperately wish to challenge that scumwad who flipped me off today to a gentlemanly duel by slapping him with my glove. Alas.

Anyway, I was thinking and realized that a lot of things go unnapreciated. For example, even though I am incredibly talented, I remain undiscovered by show-business. But there are other things too! We live our lives without realizing the things that make such a difference in our lives! So I'm going to write about something amazing, incredible, and influential.

The potato.

It turns out that the potato is one of the most awesome things ever. Like, look at it. It's like, totally glowing.

Here are some interesting facts about the potato.

It's the fourth most cultivated food in the world.

In 1536, Spanish Conquistadors discovered the potato and brought it to Europe.

Idaho, which is now the largest producer of potatoes, did not grow potatoes until 1836. Missionaries moved to the state to help the native tribes grow crops instead of relying on hunting and gathering. Isn't that nice?

In 1995, the potato was the first food grown in outerspace.

The world's largest potato weighed 18 pounds.

Marie Antoinette was known to wear potato blossoms with her outfits to make herself look snazzy.

The potato was actually more valuable than gold during the Klondike Gold Rush. While gold was everywhere, food was scarce. Since the potato was nutrient rich, it was expensive as gold, but only between 1897 and 1898.

Americans eat more potatoes than any other vegatable. On Super Bowl Sunday alone approximately 28 million pounds, or 12,700 tonnes, of potato chips are eaten in the states.

Now, isn't that interesting? The potato truly is glorious. Here is a haiku written in the potato's honor.

Potatoes are gold
metaphorically though
since they are just plants

That's great. Just great.

Anyway, I'll see you some other time with wonderful, underrated things. Until then! Say goodbye!

SLOSHY: Goodbye--

I was talking to the potato.

SLOSHY: Sorry....

POTATO: ....

Go on, potato.

POTATO: ....

Attaboy.

Esther

She Appears!

(The setting is an abandoned attic. The camera pans over dozens of cardboard boxes, covered in a thick layer of dust. Suddenly, a box trembles from within. The camera zooms onto the box. The top of the lid bursts open, and out pops an adorable creature with an elf hat on her head.)

It's meeeeeeeeee!

*cough* *cough* *hack* *choke*

Almondo, you need to do something about this dust.

ALMONDO: I'm on it!

And Sloshy.

SLOSHY: Yes?!

Just do what kappas do, okay?

SLOSHY: . . . Okay.

Wow, it's been awhile since I've been here. Hannah's been doing great by keeping her side of the blog clean, but mine is just a little -- just a little -- bit dirty

ALMONDO: What's this bra doing here. It's way too big to be yours --

Shaddap Almondo!

Anyway, as you can see by my snazzy elf hat, I am definitely in the Christmas spirit! I think I would make a great elf if I were a tad shorter and had cute, pointy ears. And those cool elf shoes with the curled up ends. Anyway, a lot has happened since I mysteriously disappeared for no good reason. Let's do a catch up post.

I got my driver's liscense

DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS. THE STREETS ARE NO LONGER SAFE!

Driving brings out the aggressive, foul-mouthed side of me. That would be okay if I could actually drive, but I can't. So basically, I am an angry goblin with wooden blocks strapped to my feet so I can reach the pedals, careening out of control on the highways because I can't read the traffic signs.

Sigh.

I ended with a 4.0 GPA in IvyTech

I know I only took two classes, but it is nice anyway. A fabulous end to a good semester.

I wrote a poem about a dead boyfriend I never had

It was for school. We had to write an elegy, or a poem about death. I haven't experienced a lot of sadness in my life, so the only logical thing to do was make up some of my own misery. I'll show it to you guys if you are interested.

Volleyball season ended

It was my very last season as a Warrior. I regret that I haven't started playing volleyball sooner. It is such a wonderful sport. But my lovely coaches gave me several parting gifts, so I am happy. I've made lots of friends and memories.

I got a new phone for my birthday

Galaxy SIII.

Oh, and I'm 18 now. I'm legal in many ways except for two in America and 4 in Sweden. I'll let you guess what those are. (Hint: It has to do with llamas)

I taught a literature appreciation class

Unfortunately, because of a long hiatus, some pieces of literature went unappreciated. . . I hope we get to appreciate them later.

I started a journal

You know that's right. I've never been able to keep journals for more than three days. This being the fourth day, I think I've broken some sad, sad record.

Some other things

Lot's of other things happened. Some drama, emotions, fights, and losses. I won't give into them because complaining is for goblins.

And I am an elf.

As the countdown to Christmas continues, I shall be here, doing my thang. Back to you, Hannah.


Esther

Attack of the Clones -- Or, Scheid Diesel Extravaganza

Woo! Busy week, I have had. I will get onto it as soon as possible, but firstly . . .

Happy birthday, Hannah! I'm sorry I couldn't do anything fancier. I had wanted Sloshy the Kappa come and play the bagpipes, and Almondo do a dance, but Sloshy can't play the bagpipes and Almondo says his dancing expertise isn't suitable to be viewed by our young audience. (Whatever that means.) But I just want to say I appreciate all you do, and I am very, very happy to have "met" you. I hope that this blog continues for a longer time so I can continue to read your inspiring words and learn about your mad cooking skills.

------

Okay, so this post will be a catch up of sorts. I have been really busy this week, as stated previously, and I actually forgot that I had a blog. Woops! Thank goodness Hannah posted, or else we would have had the longest hiatus ever thanks to my absence. Here are some things I did:

1. I started my college classes

On Tuesday, I started my college classes. I am a student! Huzzah, hurray and all that! I'm enjoying my experience so far. It was a bit overwhelming at first, but I'm getting the hang of it. Of course, because I'm me, I have run into a few complications.

My microcomputers teacher said on Tuesday that all students should arrive fifteen minutes early to boot up their computers and deal with technological issues. So I thought, fine, I can do that. So I get to class the following Thursday, and to my surprise I see that the classroom is full of students. Instantly, I figure I'm late and I dash inside. I sit down. As I am pulling out my things, my teacher (Let's call him Qeetfranklin) walks up to me.

"Hello," he said.

"Hello!" I greeted.

"I do believe that you're in my next class," he said.

Oh. Now everything makes sense.

"Yes sir. Sorry sir," I said. And I dashed out as fast as my legs could carry me. Strangely enough, I wasn't embarrassed at all. Either I have matured, or I have formed some kind of cocoon around myself that protects me from caring what other people think about me. So I stand out in the hall, shifting from foot to foot, and a fellow student turns to me.

"Don't worry, I did it too," she said.

"Oh, yes! I mean not yes. But I'm glad I'm not alone."

She shrugged.

"Hey, he said to arrive early."

My sentiments exactly.

In other college news, I have a mini-speech due Tuesday. Wish me luck. I will let you know how it goes. Probably. If I remember. So far, classes aren't hard at all. We'll see if that changes.

2. My Guinea Pig Went Passive Agressive on Me

YOU ALL KNOW ABOUT MY GUINEA PIG FATONE BECAUSE HE IS AN ANGEL AND I LOVE HIM SO MUCH AND THEREFORE YOU SHOULD LOVE HIM TOO SEE IT'S PERFECT LOGIC?!!?.

Anyway, I have a guinea pig named Fatone. I keep him upstairs in the living room. We ran out of food for him yesterday, and upon realizing this he decided that he was dying of starvation. That morning, I came up to him and he stood up on his hind legs and wheeked at me for several seconds, pleading me for food.

"Sorry," I said.

I walked away. Every time I would pass his cage, he would continue to yell at me. Finally, I yelled at him to shut up, and he did so because he loves me and he does what I say.

But then I come back later and look in the cage. He was curled up in a ball, his steely gaze cast up at me. And his whole body vibrated with anger and he let out a slow, steady,

"Bdddrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr....."

Overall, I was very offended that he would treat me this way. I tried to give him broccoli, but as soon as he tasted it, he froze, ran into a corner, and made horrendous gagging sounds.

We got him food, and he's back to normal, but I don't want to see him in one of those rages again.

3. I went to a teen volunteer party

I volunteer at our local library, and every year the library has a get-together to celebrate the accomplishments of the volunteers. I had a really good time, I must say. We all got prizes and I received:

1. 2 tee-shirts
2. 2 pencils
3. several rubber rings
4. a couple of book marks
5. An inflatable elephant
6. a betta fishtank

Not a bad haul, eh? Now I just need to convince my parents to get me a betta, and I will have yet another ultimately-useless-but-lovable pet to eat up all my money and time. I look forward to it so much.

Also, I volunteered the second most hours this year. 39 hours and 35 minutes. I lost to another girl by five whole stinkin' minutes. I was kind of sad because this was my last year as a teen volunteer and I had wanted to go out with a bang, but ultimately I am just happy to have been a help to my community.

I also wrapped a tee-shirt around my head and put my elephant on top to create the best hat ever. I don't have a picture, but you probably don't want to see one.

4. My Online School started

Because of an error, I got enrolled in my online school a week and a half late, and as a result I am now thirty lessons behind. Yay. I started working away at it this morning. Looks like I'm going to have a full weekend.

5. Made a new friend

I now have a new walking buddy. Hello there, Ayrton. You should read my blog.

6. I started driving more

It is so much easier to drive an Audi than a giant, hulking van.

7. The Scheid Diesal Extravaganza started

The SDE is an hilarious and infuriating event that takes place in Terre Haute every year. Guys in giant trucks come from all around the country to show off the smoke-spewing glory of their engines, and to stare at other trucks. That's it.

But because of this, the traffic gets horrible, and the air turns a dark gray because of all the smoke that gets spewed out of the exhaust pipes. Not to mention, because they like to show off, these guys drive way above the speed limit and careen everywhere. It makes driving an actually dangerous affair. And these guys don't even care. I heard one guy say, "why do the cops give us tickets if they want us here (for the business our presence brings)?"

Really, diesel guy?

REALLY?

Another funny thing is that all of the guys are clones of each other -- to be expected for a convention -- but they way they saunter around with their ciggarettes hanging limply from their mouths and in their flannel shirts makes me giggle.

I also don't really get what the fun is. YAY! Your car spews more smoke into the atmosphere than the average vehicle! Let's all line up on the road and watch other gas-guzzlers drive by!

And that's what they do.

That's just a small portion. This line goes on at least a block longer than this.

That's about it! Almondo, take us away!

ALMONDO: Wait, why am I dressed in a toga?

*Shrug*

But if you are, you should dance.

ALMONDO: Ugh, fine.

(ALMONDO dances)

YAY! Happy birthday, Hannah!

Esther

We Need To Talk About Kevin -- Book Review

Hello everybody! I recently finished a thought-provoking novel titled We Need To Talk About Kevin. I have wanted to write a review about this book for the past few days, and so now I am. I hope that you may read this book too and see if you share my opinions. If you've already read it, please share your thoughts in the comment section.

Title: We Need To Talk About KevinGenre: Literary fiction/psychological
Author: Lionel Shriver
Length: Long
Summary: This is primarily story about Eva Khatchadourian and her son Kevin, who is the sole culprit of a school shooting which killed many students and two faculty members. Told through a series of letters from Eva to her husband Franklin, the story discusses what spurned Kevin murder, and if Eva's lackluster parenting caused him to turn out this way. The story goes from before Kevin was born and up to the shooting. Some focus is given to Eva's relationship with her husband, and how it deteriorated with the progression of the novel. However, this is not a romantic book.

PLOT

At first I was disappointed when I realized that this novel would be told through a massive string of one-sided letters. (Franklin never writes her back, for reasons explained in the book) I thought of this particular method of story-telling too limited -- even more so than the traditional first person. However, Shriver does a very good job of executing the plot in this way, providing each chapter (or letter, rather) with a decidedly good cliff-hanger that keeps the reader wanting more. Each letter contains interesting stories, comments, and character interactions that keep the novel moving successfully.

The plot is not without its errors, however. The novel is entirely ponderous; it takes slow, heavy steps towards its all too short climax. Each scene is relatively interesting, but often I considered the question "is this part truly necessary?" The scenes that truly brought me on the edge of my seat were incredibly powerful and completely worth reading, but they were stuffed in between scenes that didn't seem to add to the story other to give it a complete sense of drudgery. This drudgery does add to the book's tone though, which is a bonus that saved me from putting it down more often.

At points I do feel that Eva gives away too much information. Actually, one of the book's weaker points is towards the end, when Eva discusses the climax where she wasn't even present with such detail it shatters the reader's suspension of belief completely. Eva says she knows these things from previous sources, but this fact is written in such a offhanded way that you feel like this is a tacked on excuse for just giving too much information to be believable. Don't get me wrong, the climax is lovely and powerful, but it doesn't quite fit. The massive build up for just thirteen pages of questionable climactic material makes me feel a little cheated.


CHARACTERS
The characters are Kevin's weakest point, which is a complete shame because the characters are what ultimately make a book good. Eva is the protagonist, and she grows more unlikable as the story progresses. You can have a functional book without a likable protagonist, so long as you can relate to the character in some way. Eva almost seems inhuman: her incurable pathos and her determined dislike for nearly everything in the world around her is unbelievable. She contradicts what actually matters to her throughout the story. The one things she seems to appreciate is travel, but she often admits that she doesn't like it until she's in a foreign country and there's no going back. She is what literature calls an "unreliable narrator", and of course this can be a very effective story telling tool, but only used, well, effectively. Later in the story, Eva is diagnosed with post-natal depression, but that doesn't explain the depression that lasted for forty years before that.

Franklin, the husband and the recipient of the letters, is one of the more fake characters ever written. It is said that the two characters love each other, but no proof is ever given to make this a fact. When Kevin is born, Franklin goes from ambiguous lover to the role of nonsensical father. Although Eva is admittedly a terrible mother, Franklin never hesitated to take Kevin's side. Whenever it was suspected that Kevin had done something horrid (from something like tampering with a kid's bicycle and cause said child to crash and nearly die, to just making a giant mess and not cleaning it up) Franklin never considers it a possibility that Kevin did something wrong. It became Kevin and Franklin vs Eva (as she like to put it) and it is not a believable relationship in the least. Franklin at most is a fuel to help Eva rant about the little terror that is Kevin, but I suppose that the book is about Kevin in the first place.

Kevin is ultimately the best character in the book. He is a monsterous person down to his withered core, but he is a successful character. His morals and drive remain ambiguous, but he stays a constant in between the two other leading characters. That is, until the end of the book. In the entire story, we are lead to believe that Kevin was irredeemable. Yet, in the face of a new fear, he undergoes a turnaround that is almost a 360 by Kevin standards. It's frustrating. Shriver's inability to create characters that can tell a cohesive story is Kevin's greatest weakness.

PROSE/WRITING QUALITY

The writing quality of Kevin is the book's best feature. It has a wonderful flow to it. You are compelled to keep reading even through the book's more mundane sections. Eva's character makes it difficult to continue reading sometimes, but actually, sometimes it's her unique (if not natural) mind that makes you want to read. Sometimes the author puts things in such a way that the reader is forced to pause and think, "wow, that's totally how I feel", or "that's the perfect way to put it". Sometimes you don't agree with Eva at all, but you still find it interesting how intense her psychological insight is. Whether right or wrong, this novel is a thought-provoker.

There are moments when the novel gives too much information to a detail, while not giving bigger, more interesting moments their time in the limelight. It seems that the author has difficulty focusing on what aspects of the novel to elucidate. Eva's stream of consciousness technique is a bit of excuse for it, but whether the narrator is reliable or not, the author simply must consider the important aspects of a novel and realize them.


THEME/FOCUS of THE NOVEL

I am still trying to discern Kevin's true purpose. At first I thought it was a psychological probe into the minds of psychopaths or sociopaths. Not even half way in, I realized that there wasn't enough focus on this subject to be the true purpose of the book. Kevin touches on several different themes, but doesn't adhere to a single one. It feels like the author is trying to make a definite point, but she never quite manages. Therefore, I can only ascertain that the theme and the focus of this book is rather fuddy duddy, to put simply. I was rather disappointed that I couldn't walk away with a genuine feeling for this book. Rather, I simply received a mishmash of different ideas. Thought-provoking, intelligent, and scary thoughts to be sure, but all vague and not truly realized. It would have been more satisfying for the author to submit to a single theme than pursue them all at once. But maybe the point of this book is that there is no real meaning, no true answer to the things people do and why they do them. An interesting observation, but it doesn't make for satisfying reading.

OVERALL

We Need To Talk About Kevin is an above-average book, and is filled with clear and vibrant moments of pure literary genius. Its problem lies in its execution. Its inability to retain consistency in its characters and its narrative focus hamper this novel extremely. Still, those bright moments make this book worth reading. The climax is exciting and has an excellent plot twist, but the last two pages will have you reeling with confusion over who Eva and Kevin really are.

It is a chilling and captivating read, but also a heavy undertaking. Don't expect to read this book in one or two sittings.

3.5/5

-----

Well, there you go! See you guys next time.
Esther

The Problem With Doors

I have very few real fears in life. These fears are:

1) Tripping and then dying from the fall
2) People who wear bikinis when they really shouldn't

3) Intestinal parasites

4) Doors

Out of all of the things on this list, I believe that it is obvious which one scares me the most. Indeed, doors scare the heck out of me. It might be strange to devote an entire blog post to doors, but what's even stranger is that I have enough writing material to fuel a post about doors.

Now, why do I fear doors? The answer is simple. It's because I can't open them.

I try to push open a door, and it turns out I was supposed to pull it. I pull on a door, and I was supposed to push it. I turn the knob to the left when I should have turned it to the right. I blast it down with a bazooka when it turns out I should have used a lazer cannon.

You see, I can't get a door open when it counts. So I make a fool of myself in public every day because I can't open an acursed door! A door, people. In fact, I can think of no scarier situation than having Brad Pitt walk up to me, his arms full with boxes of expired fortune cookies, and ask me to hold "that door over there" open for him so he can enter the next room.

I get goose bumps just thinking about it.

There is no logical or scientific explanation for my EPI (Extreme Portal Incompetence). I think it might be because I'm the first child of my family. Since I always had things provided for me, I am unable to perform some of the most basic of tasks. I'm terrible at cleaning, cooking (I'll have to write a post about the "popcorn" incident) and just being practical.

Of course, doors are one problem. If you combine doors with a lock and key, things spiral into complete and utterly inevetable chaos.

My inabilty to stick a key in a lock and cause the door to open is so unusual that I'm even ashamed to admit it here. I am seventeen years old and I can't do this simple task. Why couldn't we have just switched to those swipe key cards by now? That would make it easier for a poor, poor child with FCS (First Child Syndrome).
So, I suppose you guys need an example or something. Okay, that works for me.

An Example or Something

When I went to Europe as a student ambassador, I had the lovely opportunity to spend the night in the dorms of a Welsh college. We got whole dorm rooms to ourselves, and I was so excited because I haven't gotten a room to myself in two weeks. You see, I have COWATS (Can't Opperate Without Alone Time Syndrome) so alone time would be good for me.

So I'm bouncing up and down while we wait for our dorm number. My delegation leader walks up to me, her gaze focused on a clipboard. She checks my name off of a list.

"Okay, Esther, your room is number 202. Here is your key."

She handed me a key.

What I was thinking when she handed me that key cannot be rewritten here, but it rhymed with "purple orange is hip happenin' over there".

So I got up to my room. I saw the door. I saw the lock. I swallowed. Slowly, I inserted the key inside the lock and twisted the key to the right.

Nothing happened.

So a delegate walks up to me and asked if I needed help, to which I responded casually,

"Sure, maybe, if you feel like it."

Together we managed to defeat the Evil Door. It was a true victory for man kind, I dare say.

Another Example, Possibly Maybe
This incident happened the other day, and it was what inspired me to do this post. I am going to take some college classes at Ivy Tech, but I had to take the COMPASS test first. It's this easy test that sees if you are qualified for college level courses.

I went to Ivy Tech's testing center, where a nice receptionist greeted me. After I signed up, she slid me a small, metalic object that looked suspiciously like a key.

"This is the key to locker number five. Please place your personal belongings in the locker now."

WHAT!

"Good bye, honey," my mom wished me as she left the room. I almost reached my arm after her, wishing she could discreetly open my locker for me, or at least give me advice. But she didn't. And I was distraught.

The locker was locked with a padlock. I put the key in the padlock. I twisted the key.

NOOOOOOOOO --

The lock twisted open.

That's nice.

But unfortunately for me, I had to take the padlock off of the locker in order to open it. This proved impossible, and before long I was battering myself against the locker with unparralleled force.

"Is something wrong?" the receptionist asked.

I hung my head in shame and pointed towards my locker.

"Could you open it for me, please?" I asked.

So yes, that was incredibly embarrasing.

On the bright side, I scored very well on my test. College courses here I come!
But now I am questioning my actual intelligence.


Don't write a blog post only to have the last half deleted so you have to write it again,

Esther

Life Update: Plays and Auditions

Hello everybody!

Sorry for the long hiatus, but I have been terribly busy. "Rules For a Knave", the play that I wrote and my homeschool performed, has just finished its run on Broadway!
Ha ha, joking. But we did perform it, and it was such a wonderful experience. I've had a busy day today as well, even though the play is over. I'll get to that.

Anyway, let's get to the summary before I fall asleep from exhaustion.

We have been working on the play for about a month. Not a lot of time to get a solid hold of a production, but our group was so wonderful we managed anyway. Our dress rehearsal was okay, our first performance was even better, and the second one was even better than that! It was great to watch the actors grow like that.
But before all of this, I was really scared. It wasn't until the final days before the performance that the whole thing was coming together. I was afraid that we wouldn't be able to have a polished show to give our audience.

And, I was afraid that the audience wouldn't like the play anyway. Naturally, when you write something, you want the audience to like it. It may be a vain wish, but it's a wish I had anyway. The first time we performed, the audience barely laughed at all, and I was devastated. The reception was still good, but what I wanted most was for people to be happy and laugh out loud. The second performance was much better. We got a lot of laughs, and I felt like the hard work that the actor's had put into the performance was finally paid off. I mean, when you're on stage and you're giving it your all, it means so much when you have an audience willing to respond.

So yes, it went very well. I am so proud of the actors and actresses who took part in this. This will be the last play I will share with some of my dearest friends, so it ends on such a bittersweet note. Still, I'm happy for the experience. The cast did such a lovely job.

We had a great cast party as well. We played volley ball and it was a lot of fun, but mostly we just soaked up being around each other. It's great being with friends.

After that, my family and I went home and I went to sleep! It was a busy two days, indeed! It is finally time to hang up my costume for Baljeeta Regina Flavorita Gorbachev. A sad parting, but my character will never be far away from my heart.

In other news, I auditioned for a play at the Community Theatre of Terre Haute today. It was for the musical "Hairspray". I enjoyed myself so much. I was really nervous, though.

You were expected to sing a short song, read lines, and learn a dance routine. When it was my turn to sing, I was shaking so bad I think I was vibrating on stage. Singing isn't my strong point, though!

After that we did learn a dance. I am so pathetic at dancing, but the choreographer put it in such a way that even I managed to learn the part. I had a blast! When we performed it onstage, I put my all into it. I wasn't as good as the others, of course, but I like to think that I had the most pep. (Besides some guy named Matt. He was a spindly bundle of energy) The director said that what they were looking for most was a great attitude, so I think I had that down.

We read lines after that. I totally got to say three lines! Think it will help me get a part? Ah, oh well. Even if I don't get the part it was a really good experience.

That's the update for me! If this post seems dry, I apologize. Seriously, you should see me right now. I'm lying on the couch like half-cooked pancake. So tired!

I hope you guys are all doing well. Sloshy, why don't you sing us out?

SLOSHY: Stand in the place where you live. Now face north. Think about direction and wonder why you haven't --

Okay, okay. That's enough.

I'll get Adele to sing us out next time.

Esther

"Yellow Plus Red" -- A Short Story

It's a pleasure to behold your lovely faces again.

Since Hannah so kindly shared a lovely piece of literature, I thought I would share a piece of my own "literature".

SLOSHY THE KAPPA: What's with the quotation marks?

I assure you I don't know what you're talking about. Anyway, I am going to share with you some of my "literature".

SLOSHY THE KAPPA: There it is again!

Am I going to have to bring out the rubber ducky again?

SLOSHY THE KAPPA: . . .

Anyway, I used to be an avid part of a writing site called The Young Writers Society. I don't participate it in it as often now, as the site has diminished somewhat, but it's still a wonderful place to share your writing. I used to enter some contests, and this piece I wrote is one of those contest entries.

The rules for the contest were that you had to use a random prompt generator to fuel the idea for your story, and the story had to be under 1000 words. I went through a lot of stupid ones before I found a prompt I liked. The prompt I chose was this:
"Your story is about a historian in a mental institution wandering the highlands."

If that sounds impossible to logically work with, that's because it is. So I decided to be a little crazy with it. So indeed, I did write a story about a historian in a mental institution wandering the highlands, and I'm proud of it. Please, read the story and share your thoughts.
                                                               ---------------------

                                                             "Yellow Plus Red"


They put me in here because I'm afraid of the color orange. 

My fear is completely logical, but they don't think it is so I'm in here. White walls -- soft, composed of thick doughy squares that look like couch cushions all sewn together. So white. Not orange. 

It's completely logical that I hate the color. Let me tell you why. One, it's ugly. It's the exact color of the bloody pus that oozes out of your ear after your eardrum bursts from an infection. It's vibrant, but it doesn't belong: it clashes with any color it comes into contact with. It's an unnatural mix of red and yellow. Whenever I see an orange flower I think that that flower isn't actually real; it's just another illusion mocking me, just because I hate the color and the world knows it and it wants to show me that it knows it.

The world can't mock me because I'm behind these walls, but sometimes orange comes and prints small, bright footsteps all over my room, and I panic and throw myself against the couch cushions, trying to drown out the noise I begin to hear. The noise goes 

Tap.
Tap.
Tap.

and it repeats over and over and it won't shut up. I know that it's orange's fault. It's completely logical. I'm a logical man.

Yet I'm here. 

I'm one-hundred percent positive that I am a historian. I know of the past, thus, I'm a historian. I have brown hair, tinged with gray, which falls past my eyes. I want to get a haircut, but they won't let me close to sharp objects, and I don't trust them around me with sharp objects. Honestly, I would give anything for a sharp object right now. I would prick my finger and I'd wait and see if blood comes out, and if I see red I'll know I'm alive. For all I know I could be dead; no one has told me otherwise. But I might be alive because in my mind I'm living, and in my mind I'm wandering the highlands. 

The hills are bright green, brighter than the highlands should be, but in my place I see what I want to. The landscape rolls up and down like a blanket flapping in the wind. The sun is completely obscured with a thick layer of clouds, thank goodness. Instead, light seems to appear randomly. Everything of interest gives a light, and the most interesting thing is her. 

Blank, wide, eyes stare at me. I move, but her eyes do not follow. They stay focused at the same spot. Her red lips are parted. Her skin is blanched and bloodless, with small, blue veins that branch along her throat. Her head is tilted too far to the right. It would give her a painful crick, always being like that, but since she doesn't feel anything, I think she’s fine with it. She hangs in the air, about one foot off of the ground. Nothing’s keeping her up there. 

She's always hanging, and I'm always standing. It hasn't changed since they brought me here. When I choose to see her, I can never do anything except stand. I want to touch her, but I can't because the world knows I want to touch her and it wants me to know that I can't touch her. 

She has a bracelet that's silver, with a small key on it that bounces off her wrist in the breeze: 

Tap. 
Tap. 
Tap. 

We stand together in silent companionship, and I’m happy, I think. But then she speaks. 

I've forgotten what words sound like. I began to ignore them when they took me here, after they said I had a nervous breakdown. I forgot after the antiseptic smiles phased to placid expressions, then to exasperated looks. All I have left are the voices inside my head, but I cannot actually hear them. They are whispers escaping open lips, never inflected or pronounced, yet I understand them. 

So whispers escape her gaping mouth and they mean,

"Why am I here?"

So I mean back, 

"Because you're my everything." 

A chill runs down my spine. She whispers,

"Your Everything is Nothing." 

The highlands begin to swirl. Light emanates from strange places, as if it doesn't know where it belongs. The clouds form strange shapes, unmasking the sun which covers the world in glaring light. Everything is changing, and I don't understand. What has broken? Slowly, her feet land on the ground. Her neck's crooked, but she’s closer now. I see the dark bruise on her neck. She strides away.

 I hear

Tap.
Tap.
Tap. 

With each sound, I’m assaulted with a memory. Memories that I had repressed but were coming back. I see us walking, with her neck perfectly straight, and I wonder why we are holding hands. I remember.

"Wait!" 

"Your Everything is Nothing." 

Another tap and I see a rope. Tap. I see her hanging. Tap. Her orange shoes hang limply above the ground. Tap. And I cannot look away. Tap. I am paralyzed, but all I see are those shoes. Tap. Orange shoes. Tap. Why can’t I do something? Tap. Why can’t I look away?

Because she is my Everything.

And my Everything is nothing. 

I wake up screaming, ranting, raving. I thrust myself against the walls, pounding them. They pour in, and pin me down. Their tone means to say it's okay, but it's not okay. Orange foot prints stain my vision. The world knows she was all that was left of me and it wants me to know that by taking her away. Sharp, glinting needles fade away along with my consciousness. I’m going back to the highlands.

They put me here because I’m afraid of the color orange. My fear is completely logical. 

Yet I'm here.

-------------

Well, what did you think?
I didn't win with this story, but I didn't expect to. It was still a great experience, and the first short short story I have ever written.

Don't be afraid of the rubber duck,

Esther

Eight Actors That Make Me Cheer

Cheer seemed like a relatively unhumiliating verb. The other options were "squee", "KYAA!", and "hehehehehehe".

So, knowing that my most avid readers are male, I decided to list all of the male actors that I love. I figured that the guys would totally be interested in my "squeeing" on this subject matter. (Ha ha, the jokes on you, guys)

If you are a girl, please read and "KYAA" with me in the comments page. If you're a guy, well, just comment anyway. I LIKE comments.

It is interesting. Usually, I fall in love with actors for one particular role. While some actors manage to make my heart strings play like a perfectly tuned harp, it's usually a singular role that makes me remember them. So, I will be listing the role I remember these actors for as well.

We have a lot of ground to cover! Let's get on with the love fest!

In no particular order....

1. Jeremy Renner      

You look nice in that shirt, my moose.

Moment of Complete Adoration -- Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol

Let's start out strong here. I never knew who Jeremy Renner was before I watched Mission Impossible, but he caught my eye when I did see him. He has a really special type of charisma that makes you hang onto his words. His characters always seem to hold more depth than that of other actors.

I must admit this, however. My crush kind of started when I saw his butt.

But seriously. Personality. That's what counts.

AND HE'S GONNA BE IN THE NEW BOURNE MOVIE!

You can also watch him in -- The Hurt Locker



2. Hugh Jackman

The Moment of My Adoration -- X-Men

Dude, nice tee-shirt.

Hugh Jackman was my first celebrity crush. I have always gone for the tall, dark types, and Hugh fits this perfectly. I fell in love with him when I watched X-men, but I've seen him in plenty of other movies.

But come on. Wolverine? Look at that hair! It shouldn't be possible to pull off, but he does. That's why I will always love Hugh Jackman.
My favorite expression of his is that grimace/eyebrow raise that he seems to do whenever he plays those gruff, I-don't-care-about-anything characters. (He plays a lot of them)

I am considering naming my son Hugh. Kind of manly, yes?

You can also watch him in: Wolverine, Real Steel


3. Michael Fassbender

Moment of my Adoration -- X-Men: First Class

Michael Fassbender is one of my recent loves. I met him at X-Men: First Class, and I haven't been the same.

Like Renner, Fassbender has a special charisma that oozes from his pores. He is an incredibly talented actor. I haven't seen much of his works, but from what I've seen he may be one of the best on the list.

Also, his name is Fassbender. Dude, I love that.
Fassbender. Fassbender. Fassbender. Spell check is going crazy right now. Byahahaha.

You can also watch him in: Prometheus

4. Matt Damon

I seem to have a thing for guys in tee-shirts. . .

When I Fell In Love -- The Bourne Trilogy

Matt Damon was the epitome of coolness when he played Jason Bourne. I don't think you could get any cooler with a role unless you were Aragorn or something like that. If you haven't watched "Bourne", please do so I can talk to you about it.

The particular reason why I like Matt Damon is that he's smart. You can just tell that he is really intelligent, and I like that. Out of all the guys on this list, I would probably pick him to be my best friend.

You can also watch him in -- The Adjustment Bureau

5. Mathew Macfadyen

When I fell in love -- Pride and Predjuce

Owner of the easiest to pronounce name, Mathew Macfadyen captured my heart when I watched "Pride and Predjuce".

Pride and Prejudice is one of my favorite books, and it is also my favorite movie besides the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Mathew's performance as Mr. Darcy is subtle, romantic, and completely sigh-inducing.

I don't think I've sighed more during a movie.

Not to mention, he strikes me as a swell guy.

I like swell.

You can also watch him in -- The Three Musketeers

6. Denzel Washington

I don't see a tee-shirt. Shh..

When I fell in love -- Deja Vu        

Denzel, how I love thee. He beats out Will Smith, and is thus the only black guy on my list. He has quite the impressive filmography, so if you are needing an actor to crush on, he would be a  great choice because he is in a lot of good movies.

Denzel might just be the coolest actor ever. He always plays a deep, interesting character. This is because, in reality, he is actually deep and interesting.

He also has a strut that would make Tom Cruise jealous. I think Denzel's "I'm awesome walk" comes in second only to Jason Bourne's.

You can also watch him in -- Man on Fire


7. Jude Law

When he caught my eye -- Sherlock Holmes: Game of Shadows

Jude Law is funny and clever and handsome. So I like him a little.

Just a bit.

He is also an excellent dramatic reader. Please, listen to Jude Law read Lady Gaga's "Poker Face" out loud. It's hilarious.

JUDE LAW IS GOOD AT READING THINGS. :)

8. Viggo Mortensen

   
                                                                 ALSO KNOWN AS
  

                                       
          

Hee Hee! Ha ha! Hahaahahahah! HAHAHAHAAAH! Hooo! Heee.....

*inhale*

Okay, I became a fan through Lord of the Rings, but that doesn't mean I just like Aragorn. Viggo (pronounced VEE-GO) is a sweet, sweet person. He's just so nice you can't help but like him. He has a strange but good sense of humor, and a great disposition.

You can also watch him in -- Hidalgo

--------

There you have it! My favorite actors. Do you share the same feelings for any of these actors? Now quick, run with purpose to the comment section!

Don't kidnap Aragorn, (or else I will murder you)

Esther

Stream of Consciousness ... Again!

Hey everbody!

It's been kind of a long day for me and so my brain is what a water balloon would be like if it was filled with pudding and left out in the sun for a few hours.

So, I forsook (makes more sense than forsake to me) originality and decided to do another stream of consciousness post! Yay for me!

You know the drill, guys. I talk about what's on my mind, from topic to topic, until I have a splendid mashup that I dare to call a blogpost. It was my brother's (Also known as "The Stud") idea. I like my brother. I'm a big family fan, actually. I mean, whenever I see teenagers that have perfectly loving parents, yet act like they don't care about family at all, annoys me to bits. When you have people that love you, you should immerse yourself in that love everyday. To form bonds with the people that will always be in your life is one of the most important things to live a successful life.

ALMONDO: That's why my kids, wife and I have family night.

Oh, that's nice Almondo.
WAIT. You're married?

ALMONDO: I thought you knew.

No, I didn't know. Who is this chick? Aren't you a little young? I never gave you permission to get married when I broke into your Pentagon office and took you hostage.

ALMONDO: Her name is Chashewette.

Cashew? Ette?

ALMONDO: I happen to think it's a beautiful name.

... We'll talk later.

Well, Almondo's uncanny ability to find people who share nutty names with him (HAHAHAHA) has left me a little confuzzled. What's next? Walnuttella?

Ha, you know what's shaped like a walnut? A volleyball. Kind of. And volley ball practice has started up again. Isn't that exciting? My skills have dampened to say the least, but I'm starting to get the hang of it again. I've started to condition, and it is a special kind of agony.

For the first forty five minutes or so, we never stop running, jumping, crunching, or doing pushups. It's killer. It's paying off, though. My legs are slowly morphing into sexy, sexy logs.

I love logs!

Do you know where logs come from? Trees. And trees come from forest.

I've always had a dream to walk through a forest wearing a flowing cape and holding a giant broadsword. The grass is green and lush, and the wind gently blows my styled hair.

And then a giant dragon appears, blue, its scales glimmering in the shafts of light that shine through the gaps between the trees, and then To Glory by Two Steps From Hell begins playing, and I run towards that dragon in a triumphant fight to the death.

Awesome sauce.

I wonder what awesome sauce is made of. You see, whenever I say it, I imagine a pale red liquid running off the side of a table, landing on the floor and melting through it.

It must be made of Chuck Norris's blood.

And apple pie! Yummy!

The only thing better than apple pie is apple pie with ice cream. I want some now. This post isn't quite long enough for me to leave yet.

I'm stuck. I'm stuck. I'm stuck.

I'm stuck because all I can think about is apple pie...

I'm stuck I'm stuck I'm stuck

Oh. We don't have any apple pie.

THE HUMANITY!

I'm stuck. I'm stuck. I'm stuck. I'm stuck. I'm stuck. I'm stuck.

Mmm....warm. Cinnamon....apples...delicious, crispy crust that crunches just right in your mouth....Please help me.

I started writing my novel again! I went on a rather long hiatus, but I'm back to it, thank goodness! Almost to 40k, so more than halfway there. Please pray that I finish it.

By the way, I'm thinking about Aragorn, son of Arathorn again. I wonder why. It isn't like I looked at pictures of him on Google images AGAIN.

That would be silly.

Well, I totally got a new blog post idea. A list of fictional characters I have a major crush on. Look forward to it.

Oh! I doodled today. I think it turned out kind of well. It's a picture of a character from Axis Powers: Hetalia, an anime. Hetalia is a hilarious parody of WWII, using cute characters to represent each country. Each character is a stereotype of his own country. (France is lewd, America is fat and obnoxious, Germany is hard-hitting, etc.)

Here is the picture.

You may think this looks awful, but this is really good for me. I don't know if you know this, but my art skills are almost as bad as my dancing.

Almost.

Anyway, I should get off of here. I still have to go look at pictures of Aragorn -- I mean write in my novel for a little bit.

Have a good day, everyone!

Esther

Six Songs That Make My Ears Ooze Snails

In case you were wondering, oozing snails from your ears is a bad thing. It means that the music that you were listening to was so bad that it prompted your ear canals to create new organic matter in order to block out the sound -- in the form of snails.      

Yum!

It should be noted that I really have no taste music. If I do have taste, it certainly isn't very good. This means that I am in no position to share my opinion on what bad music is. Therefore I am sharing what bad music is like to me.

In this countdown, I will list six songs that currently plague me through the radio on the way to volleyball practice. In no particular order, here we go!

#1. Fireflies -- Owl City

Let's start out mellow. "Fireflies" by Owl City is not outstandingly bad, but it annoys me horribly. The singer, while super cute, sounds really weird in this song.

But mostly, I believe this song is nonsensical. If you can make heads or tails of what it means, then go for it! Some of the imagery is rather beautiful, so I don't slaughter this song whenever it comes on.

You can listen to it here.

Worst Line:

I'd like to make myself believe
That planet Earth turns slowly
It's hard to say that I'd rather stay
Awake when I'm asleep
'Cause everything is never as it seems
When I fall asleep
-- Try to make sense of that.

#2. Want U Back -- Cher Lloyd

I heard this on the radio once. The beginning was kind of upbeat, and catchy. I was starting to accept it.

And then the singer went "UNNNNGH!"

And I was pushed back into my seat. See, she does this regularly throughout the song, and soon, only the only thing you can concentrated on is when she "UNNNNNGH"s, and it becomes a horrible listening experience.

Also, it features Astro.

Nuff said.

You can listen to it here.

The worst line

UNGH!

#3. Rumor Has It -- Adele

Sweet, sweet Adele. I love her. I admit that her songs are quite overplayed, but that's because people like them. But unfortunately, I simply can't stomach "Rumor Has It". The chorus is so repetitive that it makes me cry. Adele is so intelligent that I wonder why she chose a chorus like this.

Well, rumor has it rumor has it rumor has it rumor has it that I don't want to listen no more.

You can listen to it here.

Worst line

What do you think?

#4 Give Your Heart a Break -- Demi Lovato

I like Demo Lovato okay as a person, but I'm not a fan of her voice. She can sing pretty well, but some types of tones just kind of grate against your ear. But mostly it's the repetitive tone and chorus and the cliche lyrics that get you in this one.

You can listen to it here.

Worst line
I don't want to break your heart
I wanna give your heart a break

#5. Where Have You Been -- Rihanna

Thank you, Rihanna.
This starts out okay, but the chorus sounds like Rihanna has been beaten in the diaphragm multiple times with a waffle iron.

You can listen to it here.

#6. Starships -- Nicki Mybuttisbig

This one will dig into the depths of your brain, never to get out again. It's so dang catchy. And the worst part is that it really isn't a good song.

Also, it makes no sense. I mean, I guess the beginning does ...

But why is she a starship? And is she high in a literal or metaphorical sense?

Also, if foul language isn't necessary, then don't use it. It just makes you sound like you don't have a vocabulary. Sheesh.

You can listen to the (UNCENSORED!) version here.

Worst Line

"TWINKLE TWINKLE LITTLE STAR!"

What . . . why?

Oh right. She's a starship. That's why.


Enjoy your music!

Esther

Why Short Stories Are Amazing

Hannah has taken a brief leave of absence because she has a life and she's awesome like that. You go, girl!

Of course, this means that she has also left a hole in every one of our hearts -- a metaphorical one. Had it been literal we would have all died by now. I miss her terribly. . . How long has it been since I last read her words? A few months? Years?

Oh, a few days. I might have been getting a little dramatic, there.

I am posting two days in a row to fill the gap in our hearts with doughy lumps of love. Today, I will be writing about writing!

Gasp!

You guys might be familiar with the fact that I aspire to be a published author. If you aren't familiar with this, well, I aspire to be a published author. There, all caught up.

Recently, I have taken a break from my novel to pursue another creative endeavor: writing short stories. Short stories are wonderful pieces of fiction that average from about 1000 words to 7,500 words, and are great mediums for conveying singular ideas and morals.

Still, the short story is often underrated. When most people decide to be writers, they imagine novels or even poetry before they think of the short story. The market for the novel is more obvious. You see a lot more novels at a bookstore at a library, so isn't publishing a novel a better overall experience than publishing a short story? Shouldn't a novel offer more fame, money, and and an overall sense of accomplishment?

Even though I would love to be a novelist, I think I will always be a short story writer at heart. There is something about a good piece of short fiction that makes my heart soar. I believe that a good short story has just as much value as a novel, and certainly can have just as much of an emotional impact. (Read: The same holds for the novella. Of Mice and Men and Animal Farm are two novellas that hold a special place in my cardiac organ.)

Here are four reasons why, if you are a writer, you should pursue writing a short story, even if it's just once.

Short Stories Give You Practice in Condensing Your IdeasAre you familiar with the novel  series Twilight? If you are, you know that these books are rather massive. If you have read them, you are also aware that these books are a rambling mess. Not to say that the books are bad at heart, but they are severely unorganized. A lot of pages are useless, not contributing to the overall effect of the story. A lot of other things are superfluous, which takes away from the plot. Meyer would have been able to write a more concise story if she wrote more short stories.

Because short stories are small, you have a short time to get your character development, your setting, and your plot realized. Is this impossible? Not at all. Because it they are short, short stories generally have less plot, character development, and setting than novels. But this doesn't mean that it isn't hard to fit all of those things in. Short story writing allows you to focus your ideas. By being able to focus your words into a readable story, you are also practicing your ability to pace correctly. You will learn when a scene is unneeded, or when a certain scene goes on for too long. You will learn how to make a story move without drowning it. In the end, you'll have a more focused idea that shines through, rather than a rambling mess.

Short Stories Do Have a MarketThere are several magazines, online and print, that publish short stories. They will often pay you, too. Sure, this isn't as much money as a novel (unless you are really popular) but this does give you publishing experience. It is easier to publish a short story than it is a novel, and once you have a few published short stories under your resume, the novel you do want to publish is going to look a lot more promising to agents and publishers.

For example, if I sent my book I Know Why the Caged Bird is an Exterminator to a publisher without any publishing credentials, that publisher would think I am a green horn, completely inexperienced when it comes to publishing. But, if I had been published previously, that publisher just might give Exterminator  a second look.

Short Stories are PowerfulIf you read a lot of novels, there are sure to have been books that have stuck with you. Several books have stuck with me, like Lord of the Flies or The Bell Jar, but short stories can do the same thing. They might be able to do it better.

Short stories can't waste time. They have to prove a point. In this way, they can be even more powerful than novels because they are completely devoted to a theme, moral, or concept.

This devotion can allow the reader to walk away with a viewpoint on the world from reading a short story. A short story may not be able to say much, but if it is written well, what it does say can have a lasting impact. And because it is short and focused, its topics are easier to remember.

Here are two short stories that you may have already read, but are recommended.

The Most Dangerous Game -- A short story about a man who crashes on a on a desert island where he meets a strange huntsman famous for his exploits. Only does the main character know that this hunter is more than he seems . . . (One of my favorites)

The Scarlet Ibis -- A short story about a boy who is ashamed of his physically weak brother. Full of symbolism.

Short Stories are Excellent Practice
More often than not, people choose the novel as the first thing they try to write. What a mistake they make! Without having experience in plot or character development, these novels are often just average.

The short story is excellent practice for beginning writers. It gives writers the chance to practice all of the nuances of the writing craft without having to write a giant book. Short stories give the practice of editing, as well, so a writer can be more comfortable with editing. It is often scary to have written a novel, and then have to deal with the prospect of editing it. Having written short stories will help with this.

------

And there you go! I hope you enjoyed this post!

Don't ever be daunted,

Esther

Circles . . . It's Always Circles

Hey everybody!

I went to the fair yesterday. It was a fair experience! HAHAHA...
Hmm, I just became very sad.

Ignoring the really bad pun, I thought I would fill your ears with an actual life experience of mine. Nice change of pace, yes? So, I went to the fair with my friends yesterday. It was a lot of fun. I didn't take pictures because I am stupid.

Let's start from the beginning.

Our fair is one of moderate size, full of rides and junk food. A wonderful mishmash of human beings attend it every year. There, you can see loving couples holding hands (or other body parts) or you can see a shirtless (white) guy with a beer belly hollering "Yo! Dawg! Totally happening. Yo."

It's great.

The problem is, the fair always takes place in the middle of July, during the hottest time of the year. I think the guys that run it are trying to lose weight by sweating all of their bodily fluids onto the brittle, yellowing grass. If you can ignore the fact that the heat is literally killing you, the place is lots of fun. I'm just more susceptible to heat than most people are. I walked around in public in a cami for the first time yesterday to avoid the heat. And I think everybody else just wore what they usually did. (Shorts small enough to be underwear, and tank tops that are so tight that their cup filleth over, if you catch my wookie)

Sloshy the Kappa would have been miserable. His head water would have evaporated.
But gosh darn it, I was going to have the time of my life. So I got my arm stamp that granted me entrance and followed my friends to the first ride.

The Ferris wheel!

Give me a rollercoaster any day of the week, but goodness, Ferris wheels scare the heck out of me. The only wheel that didn't make me nervous was the London Eye, and that was only because I was inside a giant capsule. I went on with my six year old sister Laney, and when we sat on our death bench (it was open to the air), she was all like:

"Yay! Yay!"

And I was all like:

"NO TORNADOES! NO TORNADOES!" because there is nothing worse than strong wind when you are up high.
And we rotated into the sky, and then rotated towards the ground. And we repeated this about four times. And during this time I uttered a monologue that Shakespeare would be proud of. Here is its approximation:

"Oh, oh, oh, oh, we're going up! Hold on Laney! Don't let go of your handle bars! Sit back! Sit back! You don't want to fall out! And sit up straight, too. More balanced that way. Oh, oh, oh, we're getting pretty high now. Isn't this fun, haha? This is great! We're so brave Laney! So brave! Oh, oh, oh, oh! We're at the top now! Wow! We're so high! Don't let go of your handle bar, Laney! Don't let go! Hold on tight! Ha ha! I'm not scared at all! OH, OH, OH. We stopped at the top! Now we just get to swing here in the wind! Yay! Oh NO! WAS THAT A BREEZE? Stop blowing wind! Ha ha! So much fun -- STOP ROCKING! Hold on Laney! Hold on!"

Yeah...Not my proudest moment.

Anyway, we continued through the fair, enjoying ourselves. I saw this giant stuffed cow that hung from one of the fair games, and I fell in love. I mean, it was more than half as tall as me, spherical, and fat. I loved it. That's why I was kind of disappointed when Zachary spent ten bucks on a game that didn't even offer the magical cow.

I mean, it was a cow. A fat cow!

We rode on the swinging hammers, which was great. Those didn't bother me at all. But then we rode on a ride that goes in circles.

Let me vent this. All fair rides are circles. The most popular rides are the ones in which your seat rotates while also spinning around an axis, while revolving around yet another axis in a sweet solar system of spinning doom. I tend to avoid these, but there was one that was where you lay down on your stomach and just floated gently around a pole.

That couldn't be so bad, right?
Ha ha, yes it could.

Afterwords I got so sick that I couldn't talk. I just mumbled about until I found a bench on which to lug myself onto. At this point, I would like to thank Zachary for saving my life and all that. You sacrificed your good time to make sure that I didn't fall off my bench. Thank you.

I think it took me about fifteen minutes to recover, and I was never really the same. I had changed.

Not in a psychotic way, but you know.

I did have enough to go on the bumper cars and bump some serious booty. My first target was a small, four year old girl. After I had slammed into her, she looked at me with such a shocked expression that I felt guilty.

And then she rammed me back.

Small children are devious, aren't they?
After this, we did some more cool things, and then we rode the fun slide.

Okay. I rode the fun slide along with my 13 and 9 year old brothers and my 6 year old sister. Someone was too cool to slide with me. But it was awesome. I slid down with Laney so I would give off the impression that I wasn't totally doing it for myself.

My bro Ethan slid down at the same time another toddler did, and when he got to the end he said, "Darn, I almost beat that little guy."

I also struck up a conversation with the maintenance guy that was wondering what I was doing screaming all over the place.

After that, we wrapped up the whole thing. I really enjoyed hanging out with all of my friends. We sang songs on rides, and we made silly faces at each other. It was a great experience. Thank you dad, for allowing us to spend our limited funds on such a frivolous expenditure. I love your guts.

Love every one's guts,

Esther

PS. The only thing worse than circles are spirals.