Killing Fish = Emotional Turmoil.

Today at work, I had to euthanize a fish. It was still alive, sort of. I remember watching it flutter in and out of life, gasping as it floated at the top of the tank.

Depending on the circumstances, there are two ways you can euthanize a fish. You can freeze it, or you an smack it really hard against something. Usually I only freeze a fish if it has really bad ick or tail rot, but it's going to live for a few days at least. But this guy was almost dead, and to be honest, I was just gonna chuck him straight in the garbage anyways.

So I reached into the tank and scooped him out as discreetly as I could, slipped him into his plastic coffin and spirited him away to the back. I was just about to throw him to his shadowy doom when I happened to glance at the bag. He was still flickering around, suffocating on oxygen. It felt bad to make him suffer more than he had to.

Without a second thought, I brought my arm back and smashed the bag against the side of the garbage can. And that was that. He was dead.

I felt queasy afterwards; my heart was fluttering around in my chest. I don't think I can recall a time when I was overtly cruel to an animal, let alone having killed one (even if it was for good intent).

Can killing something as simple as a sickly fish have an emotional impact on a person?

Looking in Mirrors.

Mirrors.
Full length mirrors.
Afraid of them,
because I don't know
what they show me,
Beacause I don't know
who that girl is
looking
down
on
me.

The Kiss.

Your kiss is like liquid,
hot and cold down
my chilled spine.
Bumps rising
where
your fingertips
graze my skin.
I've fallen in love
with the blue kaleidescope illusion.

- - -

I'll give you a cookie if you can name the pattern here. Haha, I'm so clever!

Jumping Over The Moon.

There's a pounding heat
in my head.
Makes me want to
jump up and over
the moon,
just like that cow
that acheived it
in a fairytale.

- - -

Taadaa! I know, writing has been skimpy and all together unsatisfying. Well go eat some Sherret Fit. I mean Ferret Shit. :)

Wanting To Stand Up For Someone, But Doing Nothing Instead.

Today I watched a bunch of douchebags at my school harrass a kid named Reese. Now Reese has kind of a reputation for being a pervert around the school, so on normal circumstances, someone cracking a joke about or at him wouldn't really bother me. But it was just the way these guys were picking at him: Like vultures hovering over a rotting carcass. I guess it really shook me up.

It was like eight to one, and I really wanted to get up and punch some of them in the face. I didn't. I just sat there and minded my own buisness, wincing as they continued to aggravate Reese.

I felt horrible. I wish now that I had gotten up and come to his aid, I wish I had the guts to go talk to a teacher about it. In some respects, I'm no better than any other teenager. I'm weak and brittle, and I sometimes break under peer pressure and social standings.

The incident made me realize something else as well. I was looking at those guys, with their pants down to their knees and dopey, assinine looks on their faces, and I realized that I'm a really lucky girl. How many of those boys have girlfriends who are unsatisfied, who are always trying to convince themselves and everyone around them that he's really a nice guy? How many of those boys have lost friends and made enemies, just because they felt the need to act a particular way?

I'm so happy that my boyfriend is not at all like that. And I'm very, very lucky. :)

Quick Update

Just a quick update. New prologue is finally finished and part of it will be up very soon! Till a later date!

This is a Post to...

RAWR!

Say nothing.

Seasons.

Spring,
flowers sprout and
grow.

Summer,
heat flourishes and
hangs.

Fall,
leaves yellow and
die.

Winter,
creeps in and
stays.

- - -

Sorry, I know there's a bit of a gap between my posts. School has just been eating me alive, namely English AP. I guess if I just sat down and actually did my homework for once... :)Ah, I keeping telling myself as long as I do well on exams and the Finals, I'll be fine.

This statement is true. If I pass the Final exam with, say, eighty percent (which is easy on a comprehensive test) then I bring my mark up a minimun of twenty percent. That's rough math, obviously, but you get the picture.

Quite soon I will be posting up a prologue I wrote a good while ago, though the version I put up here will be revised and rewritten. The first two paragraphs are done, so I'll give you a sneak peak:

Old Version:

"He screeched in pain, a sound that echoed throughout the dank halls and empty pools of water that had formed in some of the older areas. The sound of dripping was a constant beat, a rhythm that the torture ensuing danced to."

As you can see, it's a weak parapgraph. I went back to elaborate and expand.

New Version:

"He screeched in pain, a sound that echoed through the dank halls and empty rooms of Shiro’s neglected palace. It vibrated through old cobwebs draped across everything: They sheeted the gray stone of the walls, hung from unused chandeliers, coated lavish chairs and wasted furniture. In some of the older rooms, ripples appeared in pools of once stagnant water. Drops of liquid hammered stone and molding carpet."

To me, the new version is not only stronger, but gives you a much better sense of place. But I'm probably biased. :)

Sweet, till later!

Drabble and Others.

Here's a short bit of prose for you today. It's called Drabble, a peice of fiction exactly 100 words long.

- - -

It started as a fizzle in his sleeping head. He rolled over, ignoring the alarm until it became exasperatingly loud. It was still Sunday, wasn’t it? A gasp escaped his lips as he jolted upright. God dang it, it was Monday. He jumped out of bed and rushed around in the dark, fumbling as he picked random articles of clothing from the floor.

Breakfast was skipped. He dashed out the door, only to rush back in a minute later. He’d forgotten his glasses. He pounded down the sidewalk, each step heavier than the last. Tromp, tromp, tromp.
He was late.
- - -

Yep. Took me five minutes to write it. Even still, I'm quite proud of it.

Okay, in other news:
- HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!! I'm seventeen on May 6. (it's very late at night)
- Saw a local concert tonight, and fell in love with the band Battleship. I'll find a link.
- Ate Wendy's and spent some very well deserved time with mah boyfriend.

Till later!

Want S'more Cookies?

So, this evening, I decided I would get creative in the kitchen. I have invented the next drug, and it's more addictive than crack. Seriously.

Here is my recipe for S'more Cookies. Enjoy!

- - -

You will need:

- 3/4 cup of Splenda Sugar
- 3/4 cup of Icing Sugar
- 1 cup of Margarine
- 2 Eggs, beaten
- 2 teaspoons of Vanilla
- 2 1/2 cups of Flour
- 1 teaspoon of Baking Soda
- 3/4 teaspoon of Salt
- 2 cups of semi-sweet Chololate Chips
- 1 cup of Mini Marshmallows

And this is what you do:

1. Preheat oven to about 375 degrees.

2. Mix together Splenda sugar, icing sugar, margarine, vanilla, and eggs in a large bowl.

3. Add the flour, baking soda, and the salt. I use my hands to mix it all together, but an electric mixer will do the trick as well.

4. Stir in the chocolate chips and marshmallows, and keep kneading the dough until both are evenly through out.

5. Drop the dough into nice and relatively thick cookie-circles onto the cookie sheet (I use my hands for this). Putting tin foil down first will save you a lot of trouble later, because the marshmallows will melt and stick to the cookie sheet. Trust me, it's a bitch to try and get that off.

6. Bake for about 10-12 minutes. They should be just the lightest of gold on the top. The marshmallows will be all melted and oozing. If you hear sizzling, that's good.

7. Let them cool, and then indulge! :)