Volleyball Comets (And a Little Life Update)

Greetings and salutations my delightful readers. I love you all so much that I should write a song about your glory. This song would come in second only to the songs I sing about my guinea pig's glory, but can you blame me?

He's perfect.

Anyway, I thought today I would elucidate my volleyball experience. V-ball is starting back up in my humble life, which is very exciting for me. This is an interesting development because to be frank, as a wee lass, I despised volleyball. I always thought the sport looked boring and ridiculous. Oh, how wrong I was! Volleyball might be the most interesting sport to play and watch ever!

You jump.



You dive.










You smack people in the face with a raging volleyball comet--yes, it is brilliant.

I started playing a year ago, and I was terrible. One year later, I have trained, evolved, and ...


Well, I'm still terrible. But my Ocean of Terrible has ebbed off of the shores of Hopelessness, and is now lapping happily against the Jagged Rock of Bliss while the little mermaid sings a brilliant tune about love. I'm sad that I only have one year left of volleyball; it it has been a delightful experience for me. Let's focus on my experience this year so far.

Volleyball was my motive for starting to get back into shape again. This inspired my The Blissful Horror That is Jogging blog post. So yeah, my first attempts to get in shape haven't worked out so well.

But a few weeks before practice began, I started working out again, and I feel great. I still have a ways to go, though. I have trouble catching my breath during exercise. I have always suspected that I have a weak heart and lungs, and it is in my genetics to have them. So I have been working a lot more on my cardiovascular workouts lately. I am able to catch my breath a lot faster now, and it is wonderful to know that murderous chicken with a hoe will have caught me because I tripped, and not because I ran out of air and started flapping around like a fish.

Still, I die during practice. I often feel like I demand my body during workouts, but during practice it's taken to a whole new level. I particularly loathe the conditioning practices, which are spent running you into the ground. I also cherish them, because they make me work harder than I thought possible. Sometimes it is frustrating to not go as fast as the other players, or not last as long as the sprinters, but I know that I will only improve from here.

Well, except for the speed part. I think I'll always run like someone with slugs for feet. (I'm going to blame the botched foot surgery for that one, but that would be making excuses)

In terms of skill, I think I have improved already this season. My setting (propelling the ball with your hands) has improved quite a bit, and I have gotten strong enough to almost get the ball over the net when I serve over hand.

Almost.

It's a funny story, at least to me. You see, I have a tendency to grunt when I serve the ball. I mean really grunt. One time, my coach told me to serve over hand.

COACH: Serve over hand!

ESTHER: Sure, okay!

(Esther tosses ball in the air and prepares to slap at it.)

ESTHER: HRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAH!

(Esther smacks the ball. It goes four feet.)

If only my arm was as strong as my grunts. I feel like an unsuccessful version of a Williams sister.

But yes, practices are going really well. I am very happy to have made friends on the team. They are all like a family to me. I really look forward to progressing through the year with them. Some players have left, and I miss them terribly, but I will persevere.
At this point I would like to thank my coach for all the hard work she does for the team. She has a busy life outside volleyball, and she still uses her time to allow us to gather together to play this lovely sport. You inspire me to work harder coach, and I hear your voice whenever I get up for practice in the morning: "Drink plenty of water at least an hour before practice!"

Wiser words have not been spoken.
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In other words, my novel is coming along again, finally. Up to 40k. I had to cut some things out and start over again, but I think I'm back on pace.

I am playing Final Fantasy IX. I'm on disc three. Having lots of fun! I'm not sure how high I should level up for parts though, which is frustrating.

I'm also reading a book called We Need To Talk About Kevin, which is hauntingly beautiful so far. I will tell you more about it later.

I wrote a short story. It's terrible.

I have made three movie trailers in my head and I desperately wish that I could create them. But alas, I do not have the CGI technology.

And I have done a secret ritual called Kyrr'Tah. It's supposed to make the weather cooler. You'll see the results soon.

Don't walk when you can run,

Esther

The Messenger Part Two

Hey everybody!

I was totally at a loss of what to post today, so you can understand that I was disheartened.
SLOSHY THE KAPPA: Hey! You can write a post about me!

Yup, I was totally clueless.

SLOSHY THE KAPPA: I climbed Mount Everest recently! I ran into a dragon.

But then I realized I could post the next chapter of my novel! We leave off were the griffin left Marcus in the middle of the woods.

Here we go!
____

Chapter Thirteen

With the griffin having abandoned me, I stretch my aching muscles and take a look around. This forest is dominated by trees. I see little of other types of foliage around me. The trees have considerable space between them, but the canopy above is so thick that I am in perpetual shade.

That’s good, I guess. No sunstroke. A signal fire wouldn’t be very efficient though. Fires make me nervous, anyway.

The sun sets in the East, and that is the direction I’ll go. New Adlin and Maritha are to the west of Balta, neighbors to it, actually. It’s a shame that I have been dropped in the unpopulated regions of these countries, but hey, it could be worse.

I begin heading East and keep my eyes open for signs of water. I’m not hungry yet. It has been less than a day since the ship crashed, and I had stuffed my stomach full before then, but my throat is parched.

I begin a steady jog through the forest, warming up my legs. Another long journey in less than a month. Maybe I should take a vacation when I manage to find my way back home. A very, very long vacation.

I spot something in front of me. It looks like a small, black river rushing over the ground. When I get closer, I see that it isn’t water. It’s small, black chipmunks – or something that resembles them – and there are hundreds of the creatures. They aren’t startled at my presence at all, too absorbed in their fleeing to notice me. I look at the direction they flee from. I see swathes of smoke through the trees. 
A forest fire?

No. My gut tells me it isn’t. Ironwood trees aren’t known for their flammability. But something must have startled these rodents out of their homes. Something big.

Logic tells me to run in the opposite direction of the smoke, so obviously I head for the source of the disturbance. Garret would yell at me for my lack of caution, but the unsafe route is always more fun, isn’t it?

It takes me little time to reach the source of the smoke. As I thought, it wasn’t a forest fire. The smoke and dirt begin to clear, and I see a large, bulky shape form itself.

To my eyes, it looks like a giant acorn. Of course, it isn’t an acorn. It is completely handmade. A propeller sticks out from the rounded top, and a giant parachute wraps itself limply around the tree trunk. The wood is shattered, exposing the cockpit inside.

It’s an escape pod. A small one, not like the ones onboard the airship. I run my hand across the length of it, thinking. Then I see Captain Eye Patch’s insignia emblazoned in the wood. So this did come from my airship!

My heart thuds with excitement. Maybe this was the one that Gray mentioned. If that’s the case, then maybe Vale is around here too. I climb into the cockpit. There is only room for one, two if you really squeezed. I see a cabinet marked “Emergency Supplies”. I open it, but it is empty. That means someone must have taken it, right? Maybe they are close by. They probably even left tracks, not expecting to be followed by hostiles. I might be able to find them.

“Hey!” a voice shouts behind me. It is high, clear, and feminine. I spin around and see the slave, Anne, standing ten feet away from me. Her hands are gripped around a large stick. Her chin is titled up, and her back is straight as a board. This must be her escape pod. So Vale isn’t here after all. My heart sinks.

The message!

She has the message. I can get it back.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” I say, my hands raised. I walk towards her. As I near her, I can see her enormous eyes hold a defiant light that does not belong to repressed slave girl. She lets me get close to her, just a few feet away. She has high cheek bones, and her face is flushed pink. Her nose has a turn up to it. It’s kind of cute.

Cute?

“Stay away from me,” she says, drawing back.

“Like I said, I’m not here to hurt you,” I say. “I’m looking for a box. Small, really pretty? Do you have it?”

She shakes her head so fast her hair looks like a puff ball when she stills.

“I know who you are. You’re that messenger. You can’t deliver that box to Balta. Do you know what message it holds?” she says.

“It’s my job to deliver,” I answer.

“And it’s my job to make sure that the message won’t ever hurt anyone,” she says. “Stay away from me!”

I grow impatient. It’s obvious I mean her no harm, but she’s so defensive.

“Listen, woman, I want to play nice, but you have to cooperate here.”

She shakes her head again.

“No!”

“I need it!”

“No!”

I lunge for her. I don’t mean to hurt her, but if I need to use force, I will.

What I wasn’t expecting was that she actually swung her stick.

It was a slow, clumsy swing, but I am caught off guard by the action and I fail to avoid it before it slammed into the side of my head. I fall onto the ground. My vision swirls like a whirlpool. I hear that stupid ringing again, and my entire body feels stiff.

“Bad man!” she shouts. She brings the stick back down on my diaphragm. The wind whooshes out of my lungs with an agonizing gasp. Through slit eyes I can make out her walking away, her back turned to me. Slave girl my butt. She is obviously some kind of humanoid demon.

I black out. Again.

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Well, there you have it! Sorry that it is such a short chapter. I hope that you liked it okay.

Don't drink drink the black stuff,

Esther

World Building with Esther

As a wee lass, my worst subject was geography. My worst subject still might be geography. I am just so scatter-brained that the images in my head just can't stay still long enough to form a map. My mom once asked me where Pakistan was on the map. I pointed to a general area on the map and waved my hand around in a wide circle.

"It's heeeeeere," I said.

I was kind of right. I know I pointed to at least "stan". 

So how does this  tie in to everything? Well, currently I'm working on a fantasy novel. It's set in an alternate universe, so I have to make that universe. I don't mind making races and languages and cultures and stuff like that, but ask me to make a map and I freak out. Anyway, I'm working on a continent that looks kind of like Europe and even has a western peninsula that resembles Spain. Except it isn't spain. It's Sain.

Ha ha, joking. I haven't named that one yet. I just decided to make a random map and assign countries to it. Of course, I had a general idea. I knew I wanted Katania behind a set of mountains, and Balta needed to be close but seperated from Katania by a buffer country. Besides that, I was lost. This is my map so far.

I can't draw, okay? Those triangles are moutains by the way. And that blue bladder shaped one is Balta. The tiny land-locked one is New Valamir. The one under New Valamir is Bandet. The tan one is The Outlands. (You don't want to go there) And that purple one is Adlin. The one next to Adlin is Maritha. The green lands are unclaimed territory.

Honestly, when one of your countries looks like a bladder, you can't be doing a very good job. Still, this is probably a good approximation of what the continent looks like.

I am also working on the history of this place.

It stinks. But the creation myth is fun. Before the continent was full of little countries, it used to be one mega-country called Valamir.

But you know, spit happens. I won't bore you with the details. Basically, the demon of death possessed the king of Valamir and screwed things up. It's kind of hard to stay one country when dead things pop out of the ground and start killing things. But don't worry, the demon was sealed up, but not before kind of destroying a section of the continent. (The Outlands) You may be wondering why there are islands on the previous map and not the other.

Because I like islands and wanted some.

Being a god is kind of nice.

I started making the gods too. It's hard to make gods. At first it was easy, but I want at least a dozen of them. So if you think of something a god can be a god of, please tell me. Ooh, the goddess of fire. I'll name her Pyra. That was easy and not cliche at all. My gods started having conversations with each other of their own will. It was kind of funny. The goddess of battle was getting on the goddess of wind for being a snob. I like making deities because I like making characters.

I am using a basic computer programming software called Scratch to make an interactive map right now. I mean, who doesn't like interactive things?

Anyway, I will stop boring you. I just thought I would show you what I am working on creatively right now. I have never made a world before so I'm enjoying myself. Wish me luck while I begin to outline my novel! Maybe I'll tell you about it later.

I'm sitting in my tree house right now. (It's my writing spot) My fungus buddy Fishwern is staring me down because he wants to be introduced. Fishwern has been sitting next to me while I've been writing this whole time. I should show him to you.

Aw, he's so happy to see you. Say goodbye, Fishwern.

FISHWERN: GoOoOd . . . Byeeee.

HOLY CRUD HE TALKS!

With love,

Esther P.