Someday I'll be Saturday Night

Well, it's Monday again...this weekend went by way too fast. But I got a little song that might cheer you up a bit:

Someday I'll Be Saturday Night lyrics - Bon Jovi lyrics

Someday I'll Be Saturday Night Video - Bon Jovi Music Videos

Music Videos by VideoCure

Riddle

Okay, i know my sister (Kayla) is probably going to be reading my blog as of late, so please, please don't tell the answer to this! hehe. I got a riddle that only, so far, one person has been able to crack. lets see if you guys can get it.

What does man love more than life,
fear more than death or mortal strife?

What the poor have, the rich require
and what content men desire.

What spendrifts save and savedrifts spend,
and all men carry to their graves.

Pretty god, huh? came up with it around a year ago...(hint: the answer is obvious, you just to think a bit)

"It Never rains but it pores"
-The words of Freddie mercury in Under Pressure

Iron Lotus

They had all hear the stories: the day, nearly 200 years ago, when the sky had filled with fire and death reigned on the land. When plague ripped the souls of the living, and the shadows crept from their tombs to seek retribution on the living. And how only those securely held within the massive underground cities, or Vaults, had survived the years of the Apocalypse. Not that Jake Edwards believed any of that crap, it was simply to him a thin excuse to keep the people of Vault 13 underground and under the overseer's dictatorial rule. But it wasn't either of these daunting facts that filled Jake's mind as he wandered down the complex tunnels of the Vault. All that mattered at the moments was the prospect of joining the Vault's biggest, baddest, and wildest group on the streets: Snakehead.
Though curfew was technically in effect, true Snakes could evade the watch with ease, and Jake suspected that this was his first trial on the way to full membership. Not like it was much of a problem for him, as he had traveled these streets almost every day when he was young, on his have that perfect artificial night with his girl friend, Megan. That was until some drunk guard had beat her to death three years ago, that is. Sliding down a railing silently behind the guard, he slammed his hands against the watch's temples, knocking him unconscious. Taking the guard's pocket book, he waved it in the air to whichever snake was undoubtedly watching. The Snakes had earned they're famous rep as rebels against the Overseer, a kind of robin hood, stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. Though random vandalism was not at all uncommon.
A shadow in the darkness of the endless cavern, he made his way passed three more guards before coming across the ruined husk of an ancient storehouse. He walked to the door, before his wrist was seized by a cloaked figure to the left. Even when Jake had his eyes cast fully apon the figure he found that his eyes couldn't focus fully on the edges of the man's cloak, but ignored the wrenching fealing in his stomach as he followed the shadow through an open window.
The Snake threw back his hood, and Jake gasped: it was Alexander Cresswood, the legendary leader of Snakehead. Rumors were that even the Overseer did not know the existence of this hero, that he was the noblest of all within the Vault. And when the striking nineteen year old flashed him a toothy grin, Jake couldn't help to feel a sense of awe.
'Huh, you actually made it, Edwards. Guess you're not half as bad as i thought you were..still not quite as good as a snake, but you show a certain..potential." Xander's voice was thick with a slight accent, and Jake could tell that each word held a hidden meaning. "Of course, we need only the best of the best in the Snakes, and I am skeptical on how well you could survive in our family..without friends outside of the clave, living on the fringes of society."
His heart sinking, Jake listend, dismayed, to the rest of Cresswood's speach:
"We need proof that you could accomplish that no normal man could achive..an act verging on the impossible that would seal your membership ito Snakehead"
"Yes, yes, anything you want! i'll do anything!" Jake replied earnestly, desperate to do anything, anything to give his miserable life on the streets a meaning.
The Adderhead grinned, then relied in a boarderline mocking voice: "i must admire your dedication, even how frail you're use to us may be. Very well, i may as well give you a chance"
'I want you to kill the overseer"

As a child

OK, i understand that i didn't really want to write another one of these, but I'm bored, and i made another one for Lit. This one is supposed to follow our childhood years, so we pretty much have to write about all of ages from six to twelve.
And i think you'll notice by now that i enjoy writing depressing stuff (lol)

Beginning the journey of life,
age six was my year of magic
making friends, playing ball,
as a child i was freefalling.

Making my way into the world,
age seven was a year of freedom.
taking walks, sleeping over with friends
as i child i was freefalling.

Enjoying the last days of childhood,
Age eight was the year of fun.
biking and running,
as a child i was freefalling.

Taking first responsibilities,
age nine began an age of maturity.
Watching my sister, staying up late,
as a child i was freefalling.

Entering those infamous double-didgets,
age ten opened my eyes to the world.
Car bombings, murder,
yet, as a child, i was freefalling.

Sorrow forever more,
eleven was a year of darkness.
existing in solitude, enduring shame,

Standstill


Finding a last hope,
twelve was a year of rebuilding.
Reclaiming my pride, Reviving my dignity,
Making the jump once more.

This isn't really how i had written it (i forgot the entire first sentence to each one!) i still think it shows a lot of peoples lives as they really are..or how mine is. In fact, i would have been stuck at eleven for quite awhile until i had found a friend that i could really look up too, and who made me the person i am today (NOW, whether that's a good thing, you decide). The hard part is gonna be reading this to the ENTIRE CLASS. pure torture.

Ill try (once i find that piece) to make it as it once was. until then, you must endure this poem that took, well, ten minutes to think up.

Midnight Sun

'fricken piece of-" Jake cursed the broken water filter, only to be hushed by a sharp glance from his partner's ghostly light blue eyes. Whatever her name was, Natalya or something, had somehow managed to scavenge beside him through the long, dreary weeks. Not like he didn't owe her anything, after that near escape from death a while back. Like it mattered, she didn't really take too much food, and could get into places he couldn't..with a few nice surprises over the days.

Like this water purifier. If only he could make it work, it would supply him with fresh, clean water until..until..well, until it broke that is. Grumbling to himself, he tossed the case over to the girl. "see if you can fix it"he sighed, turning back to the three or four pieces of spoiled food he had collected in the afternoon: an overripe apple, a rotten banana and a slice of cake that could do for food if they couldn't find anything else to eat before dark. ripping the cake in half, he turned back to Nat, only to find her holding out a perfect, in-tack water purifier out to him. he looked around, trying to find the other one she had obviously thrown away. With a shrug, he traded her the water purifier for the slice of cake.
"i fixed it for you" the young girl squeaked after devouring her food, with a curious glace from Jake.
"Really?? Huh". he finished his food, and with a quick sip from the purified water, looked at her again. "Your a scary, scary child, you know?"

She beamed her angelic smile.

I think i actually got through my writer's block on this (wahoo!). i'm thinking on naming the next on either Iron Lotus or Ragnarok.

HELP!!

I cant think of a single thing to write. I'm absolutely NOT going to write another poem for a while, and I'm having trouble evolving The Last Days. any ideas for another story? Right now i got:

Return of the Bubonic Plague into 21st century New York

Some kind of military thing that takes place in Afghanistan

Angle-Demon war (just finishing The Mortal Instruments, amazing!)

then again, i can always just write a book about a bunch of perfect people having a perfect life. how's that for scary? lol

any helpful insightments would be greatly appreciated

-hidden mode [on] off

IT IS DONE!!

Comments are now enabled! turns out that the comment box would appear at the bottom of the page, creating the illusion that you could not post comments. Basically, comments are now handled through a pop-up text box.

Apocolyptica

That all was nearly five months ago, five months of absolute hell. For five month Jake Edwards had survived the struggle of daily wasteland life: the constant scavenging of rotting food, the nights where he would lie with his hands clasped around a rusted pocketknife staring paranoid into the darkness.
Yet if Jake could survive the halls of Middletown High and endure the constant squabbling of his parents, he could make it through this. At least, that's what he told himself every day to keep his mind off the constant hunger in his belly, and thats what he told himslef as he had to walk away from that tiny six year old begging for food. It was a wonder how the kid had survived all ths time, but it was doutfull that the girl would suffer life too much longer. But Jake was going to survive this, no matter how long it took that fool of a government to respons to this "incedent".

I AM NOT CRITISIZING THE U.S GOVERNMENT, THIS WAS SIMPLY FOR THE SAKE OF THE STORY

Yet it was only when Jake heard the rumble in the distance, and felt the crash in his toes, did he know that yet another skyscraper had shaken form its roots and crashed to the ground below. And when he saw the wall of debries roll his way, he knew that he had deliberated too long. Battling through the constant storm of dust and debries he finally sank to his feet, exhausted, whispering his encouriging words to himslef and his life gradualy faded from him. Eventualy, he felt himself being dragged away, and the constant sand subsided its tearing on his skin. The storm muted, he raised his weary eyes upward, only to see a hungry six-year old girl staring at him with those bi, blue eyes.

I think im gonna have to forfitt these writings, they're kinda weak at the moment. but hey, i needed something to write, ya know what i mean? Thinking about a story more modern..any ideas?

MAITNANCE

Okay, I'm trying to find a blog template that actually allows you to post comments, so expect some stuff messed-up for the time being. I'll post a successful template in comments.

The Meaning of Life

Okay, our LA teacher has this thing where we have to write poems and stories based on our life. One, which i think is my best, was a metaphorical poem. The Format is:
Metaphor stanza (I Am)
Metaphor stanza ( My Friend is)
Metaphor stanza (My Life is).
If you read this thing, i didn't really follow the format, but i think it's kinda good.
NOTE: get ready for some out-of-character gooey stuff.

Through the tempest of life I journey,
A simple vessel lost in the Unknown.
Through fire and lightning I endure,
Somehow breaking the crest of each wave.
On the horizon may i see a glimmer of hope:
another ship struggling amongst the storm.
To far to call for help, some stay afloat,
yet others others loose their will and sink into darkness.

Now and then might I see a friend:
an island, becoming me to rest,
to stay amongst their shores and shelter from the unending storm.
Lonely and Forsaken, i struggle to reach their warm embrace,
yet desperate as I am, i must be wary,
less i approach too quickly and crash amongst their rocky shores.
Though as tempting as it may be, I cannot linger in their warm currents,
For i am a wanderer, a vessel amongst the Tempest, and must continue the perils of life.

Again I dive into the abyss,
again destined to rock amongst the waves,
again forced to endure fire and lightning.
Time after time i must resist the embrace of the islands,
less I find myself captured in their waters, never to experience the journey again.
I must watch, helpless, as others are consumed by the storm,
Yet I must continue, as a wanderer, a vessel amongst the storm.
For I know that at the end of this tortured existence, that the last shore, that last light,
must await me at the end.

For i am a vessel amongst the Tempest, and forever must i journey through the perils of life.

Kinda dark, huh? Nevertheless, this is how many people's lives are, and even how I feel when I am at my most depressed state of mind. Enjoy my little glimpse into the meaning of life 8D.

PS. Still trying to figure out how to let comments actually work, but a really don't want to change the template. Until then, i guess I'll stay in the dark on my *ahem* great works *ahem*.

VIRUS ALERT

Okay, any of you heard of the conflicter worm? It was released on April 1st, and is one of the largest and toughest to kill computer viruses yet. What does it do? Steeling identities, bypassing firewalls, and sending SPAM (by the way, just found that that means spontaneously popping annoying emails..or something like that) to your computer. If you just happen to be "infected", it will also block those sites that tell how to protect against it. The only known way to stop it is to download this patch from another computer in your network AFTER your computer had been infected: http://www.symantec.com/norton/theme.jsp?themeid=conficker_worm

Hope this helps

The Last Days

Okay, I was going to be a bit more committed to this thing, but i recently had TONS of homework, along with a Battle of the Books competition, an All-State band festival, and 2-hour band rehearsals after school. So no, I'm not busy at all (Sarcasm). ANYWAYS, I've thought of this great (I hope) story idea, see how you like it:
It's the year 2012, and the economic crisis has exceeded the Great Depression, nations are nuking each other, and global warming is gradually flooding coastal cities. Basically, it's the end of the world. In the mist of this crisis, a fourteen-year old kid, used to be real popular, straight A student ect, struggles to survive the ruins of Apocalyptic Chicago after loosing his friends, family, and basket ball team to a recent nuclear bombardment. Saved by making it just in time to a bomb shelter under the school, he steps into a world completely different than it was 48 hours earlier. Enjoy!

It was silent, like so silent you could hear one of the hundred people in the rooms shuffle their feet...or, if you had enough room to shuffle your feet in this cramped dungeon they called a bomb shelter. Luckily, Jake Edwards had heard the sirens on his way to basketball and managed to get underground, but he doubted that the rest of the team was going to make it to a shelter before...his thought was drowned out by the first bomb, a sound louder than any he had heard in his life. There was no ka-boom, just a sudden explosion loud enough to temporary deafen him and a sudden, blinding light that even reached his underground prison nearly a hundred feet below the ground floor of his school. He had hugged his knees, telling himself stupid jokes to keep his mind away from the thought of the millions of people who had been burned alive with that first detention. His mom and dad, Lucy..no, he would not cry, he would not show weakness! Biting his lip to muffle the sobs coming from within him, he endured hour after hour of torment, with only the moans of the other survivors to comfort him. Once, an older woman doubled over, probably dead from a heart attack, but he remained in his cramped position through the constant sounds of the bombs, of death. Eventually he would notice the emptiness in his stomach, the desert in the back of his throat, but he had neglected to carry any food with him, and he had already decided not to ask the throng around him for help. Finally, he had lost track of time, a man close to the exit had opened the steel hatch, and one by one they had emerged from their dungeon and into the world around them, a world that could only be defined as...hell.
It's a bit weak at the moment, and this first part only shows his memory of his time in the bomb shelter, so the writing style (unless you like this) is going to change back to more traditional past-tense third person. Hope you enjoyed my little glimpse into the end of the world!