Wednesday, October 28, 2009

"Andrei"

When I was at school the other day waiting for class to start, I got an idea for a story and decided to run with it. I had just been lamenting the Twilight *ahem* sparkly *cough* vampires, and thinking about the more traditional view of nosferatu... aka, Dracula. Anyways, I was thinking about all the different versions of vampiric literature and mostly the vast range of vampires in folklore - they are almost as widespread across cultures as dragons are, believe it or not. From my spontaneous research, I have discovered that most cultures in most times have their own versions of a vampire, although the term "vampire" wasn't predominant until 18th century Europe. But even the ancient Egyptians and Mesopotamians had some version of a vampiric creature in their folklore.

Anyways, back to my original topic... I decided to write on myself... my own take on a vampire, not a romanticized hero, but neither is he a completely evil villian. Here is the first draft of the introduction... tell me what you guys think. :)

"Andrei"

I have roamed this earth for an eternity.
I've watched civilizations rise and fall.
Throughout the ages I have been both admired and hunted, revered and accursed. Endless stories have been written of me, some paint me as romantic, a tragic hero, but most name me monster. In truth, I am neither and both. I am Andrei Kardos. I am Vampire.

The endless years have stretched with a neverending loneliness and pain. I grow weary of this world, and yet there is no escape. Long have mortals been envious of the idea of immortality, yet they do so without thought of the maddening loneliness such a lifetime offers. I grow so weary of this life that I would welcome a slayer's arrival. How the true ancients of my kind cope with the loneliness, I know not. For it has been centuries since I've known even the company of my own kind.

It was not always this way, you know. At one time, the name of Andrei Kardos was held in high esteem. I was a master smith, forging blades for the most powerful men in all Wallachia, Transylvania, and Hungary. My work had transcended the merely functional and became truly an art. My blades were the most prized in all the land, and I grew in respect and power.

. . .

More to come at another time... as I write it or as I feel like posting it, lol.
Goodnight all, or should I say "Good evvenning..." ;)

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Shadows of Memories

I was randomly browsing through some of my old stories, and came across this Lord of the Rings fanfiction vignette I wrote a while back. It takes place in the Halls of Mandos, after the battle on Amon Hen.

“Shadows of Memories”

Time eludes me. Days pass like hours and hours seem years.Here in the Halls of Mandos I await you, my brother. Has it been a day or an age? I know not.

Shadows of memories haunt me. Often I wonder if I have merely dreamed my fate, but I know naught of such things. I am a warrior, son of Gondor. Faramir, my beloved younger brother, has ever been a dreamer possessed of great wisdom and insight. I wish that he had gone in my stead. If Faramir and not I, Boromir, son of Denethor, had gone to the council in Rivendell, fate may have been kinder.

For I, to my everlasting grief and shame, did not believe what the others had warned about the Ring. I was so arrogant in my belief that my father was right, that the One Ring would save our people.

When first my father ordered me to attend Lord Elrond’s council in Rivendell, Faramir had desired to go in my stead. Gondor had just retaken Osgiliath, and my brother knew me to be ill willed towards leaving my people during such troubled times. Our father however, never had much use for Faramir, and did not trust him with the task of going to Rivendell and bringing the One Ring back to Gondor.

Father had always said my brother was too immersed in the teachings of Mithrandir, and was therefore weak. Faramir is not weak; in truth, I believe now that he may have been the stronger of us… even if it be not in feats of arms. Unlike I, he would never have tried to take the Ring of Power.

But, as I wait here in these halls, I wonder… has Faramir earned our father’s respect and love? For he is far more worthy than I.

My mind wanders to other friends…

I pray that the halflings are safe. The Uruks took Merry and Pippin when I fell. The hobbits never left me, though I bade them to flee. Such bravery and valor those two small halflings possessed would put to shame many Men – even those among Gondor’s finest.

The only consolation offered my troubled mind is in the words Aragorn spoke to me on Amon Hen. My honor is restored, and the White City shall not fall, nor our people fail. It is now in the hands of Isildur’s Heir to save my people, as I can no longer assist them. It lies in the hands of Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and the Ringbearer, Frodo Baggins to save Middle Earth from the shadow that is in the east.

I would sacrifice myself a hundred times over if it meant I could take back one deed. Despite Aragorn’s assurance that I am forgiven, it still haunts me, and ever will, for I cannot forgive myself. I tried to take the Ring from Frodo, something that Faramir never would have done.
Even more would I give to see you one last time, Faramir… my comrade in arms, my brother.

You always loved me no matter how arrogant I behaved or how our father favored me over you so. Little brother… how my heart aches that I can’t see you again. Have you managed to hold Osgiliath? Even more than any military feats, there is one thing you have long dreamt of but never found… love. Have you found a maiden, little brother? Our whole lives the ladies of the court had been trying to match the sons of the Steward with their daughters. Many of them were beautiful to look upon, and I admit readily and without shame that I never despised the matchmaking as much as you. In fact, I rather enjoyed it. But you, you always had in your heart tales of great loves of old… Have you found a Lúthien, brother? Nay, perhaps you have not, but if you have, I so wish I was able to attend your marriage… especially the party after. My heart longs for some news of you, Faramir.

More time passes. How long, I know not.

There was a large battle fought in Middle Earth recently, for I saw many men, some of whom I once knew, pass through these halls. Men of both Gondor and those of the Rohirrim. I wonder what epic fights I have been missing. The only think I am sure of now, is that Rohan has taken a mighty blow… I saw Théodred, son of Théoden King pass on to his fathers.

Another memory stirs within the depths of my mind. Once, when Faramir and I were young men, we accompanied our father to Edoras. We hunted with the prince and the king’s nephew Éomer. Éowyn, the king’s niece and sister to Éomer, caught my eye immediately. For despite her shyness, she moved with the natural grace and confidence of a born warrior. Now, she would be a find match for you, my brother. The Valar’s assistance would be needed to tame such a Shieldmaiden of Rohan. But, knowing you Faramir, that would be unnecessary… for I have often thought that the one thing you truly fear is a beautiful maiden who is unmarried, even if she has no matchmaking mother.

More time passes… men have come and gone.

Théoden King passed into the halls of his fathers. I saw a flickering shadow of you, Faramir, but you faded before I was able to go to you. Our father also passed through here… but he appeared to be taken by a fell madness and didn’t see me where I sit, here on a granite bench between two columns. Here I will wait. For how long, I know not, for what is time but an illusion? Here is where I shall await my brother, so that once again we can be together in happiness as we go to the halls of our fathers.

It is here, in this place, that I shall await you, my brother...

Disclaimer: The characters & places in this story are by no means my property, but the story itself is.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

aspiring insomniac

It's amazing the things that people will think up when they can't sleep. In case you haven't guessed, it's almost 1:30 in the morning and my mind is going about a parsec every second. If only it would slow down a bit I might be able to fall into that state known as sleep. But still, it eludes me.

I've been thinking about the way society places expectations on the behavior of its inhabitants. Take myself for instance, one would think that the most natural and "logical" thing to do would be for me to go back to my previous job. And while that is most certainly the logical thing to do, does my mind agree with that? Of course not. All that I can think of is how I'd much rather be doing something else, and even though I do need the work, I would be so much happier if I were pursuing something different. I worked there for a while, and it's not a bad place to work per se, but I am bored with it. Frankly, I've discovered about myself that I get bored rather easily with monotony, and that's all it is - monotony.

It would probably be far easier to simply follow along with the dictates of society, but what about those of us who think differently? Why is it that anyone wanting to blaze their own trail through this life is looked at with skeptical criticism - until and unless they succeed to the "ideal" expectations of society. It is a rather annoying situation to say the least.

I have thought up a remedy for me, at least. As I tend to become bored and restless following other people's plans for my life and how to spend my time. I am simply going to stop. I am considering starting my own business, and therefore becoming the mistress of my own destiny. The commander of my own fate. If I succeed, it shall be because of my own determination, and the various helpful people along the way. It shall not be because I followed some preset "guidelines" placed by our society.

Wish me luck, or not. But I'm on my way to new and far more interesting things. :)

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Scragly Lake

I spent six weeks of this summer up in Maine, and my step-dad took me camping! We went up to Scragly Lake, which is a little bit north of Baxter State Park. It was awesome! We ended up camping not directly on Scragly Lake, but on Green Pond (on the other side of the tote road). It was wonderful. An entire large pond to ourselves without so much as hearing another human being. :) I loved it.

We were there for a few days, and the first evening we kayaked around Green Pond until dusk rolled in. The following day we kayaked about half of Scragly Lake, it took about three and a half hours. It was so beautiful up there, I didn't want to leave. But alas, like all vacations, it had to come to an end.

I did however, take some pictures (of course) and here's a couple of them...


















Thursday, May 28, 2009

A Loss of Wisdom doth a Vampire Make...

This past week proved to be a very interesting one in my book. After far too many dentist appointments over the past couple weeks, I had my wisdom teeth removed last Friday. The fun there was definately nonexistent.

As soon as I walked into the operating room, the surgeon jumped me with a tourniquet, and they started prepping the IV for anesthesia. I saw them messing around with a gargantuan needle and informed the staff that there was going to be no sticking of needles into my veins before I had my music on.

It took me a few minutes to adjust my new iPod, and then as soon as I gave the surgeon the go-ahead - pain lanced through my arm. And after that, I drifted off into a land of unnatural, anesthetic-induced sleep, carried on the strains of an Andrea Bocelli song.

The next thing I knew, I was awake.

But alas, I couldn't move or talk. It's a good thing I'd been warned about the after effects of anesthesia... otherwise I would have most certainly panicked. I couldn't move my body properly, nor could I speak. It was most unsettling.

But the fun was yet to come.
Blood.
Lots of blood.
Blood filling my mouth, and dripping down the side of my lips.
My blood.
Blood that is meant to remain in my body.

The tech asked me if I was doing okay. I told her I'd be fine - so long as she took the needle out of my arm.
Right now.
I could feel the IV needle in my arm still - and it hurt.
But she said that I had to completely recover from the anesthesia before they could remove the needle.

Finally I recovered to their satisfaction and they removed the needle.
But I was still bleeding.
They gave me gauze to wipe away the blood, but I could still taste it. Sickly sweet.
I felt like a vampire - not the best feeling in the world.
The vampiric feeling became far more prominent when I went into the bathroom to rinse my mouth out.

My teeth were stained red with blood.
My blood.
Blood that I wished was still in my body.

It was a relief to leave the office. On the way home, I got a milkshake per instructions. I discovered something rather morbid but interesting nonetheless.

Human blood by itself doesn't taste that bad. It's not pleasant, but neither is it horrible.
Human blood mixed with a chocolate milkshake however... that is enough to wrench the stomach with nausea. It was horrid. I wanted to puke, but my body wouldn't let me.

I have never been as happy to brush my teeth as I was that day. Once the bloodstains were brushed away, and the taste of blood had faded, I felt a bit more like a human, and less like a the twisted, evil creature out of legend.

The next few days were. . . interesting. . . to say the least. The medication that I was on made me so dizzy I couldn't walk without wavering. It took a good five days or so for the effects to wear off and for me to be steady enough to return to normal.

But now my lack of wisdom teeth is healing quite nicely, and I shouldn't have to be returning to the dentist for some time now - for which I am extremely grateful.

But anyway... it is late, and seeing as I am not a vampire, nor am I nocturnal, I am active in the day, and therefore I at least make an attempt to sleep during the night.
So goodnight everyone
and may you never have to lose your wisdom. . . .teeth. . .

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Monday, March 30, 2009

Betta Kamikaze

Not so long ago, Uesugi decided to commit seppuku (ritual suicide) by way of kamikaze-ing out of his bowl. I wondered why I didn't see him when I fed that morning, but he had a tendency to hide, so I didn't worry too much about it (and I was running late for school). But then when I got home, Uesugi was nowhere to be found. :( Finally I found him. The poor little guy had catapulted himself out of his bowl and landed on one of my posters that was rolled up on the floor. His once vibrant colors were dark, almost black; and his little body was mummified. It was traumatizing. He is now buried in the start of a new pet graveyard out front. :'(

A few days ago, I bought a replacement. The empty fish bowl sitting on my shelf was depressing, it called for another little finned creature to be swimming around in it. So I then aquired Kenshin, a gorgeous royal blue betta. He's just now starting to catch onto the feeding routine... but what does he do the other day? Nothing less than try to imitate his predecessor and fly out of his bowl. Fortunately Holly came home and checked on him just in the nick of time. She found him on the floor, looking very dried out. But when she went to touch him, he flopped, so she promptly threw him back into his fish bowl. Thankfully she got there in time... I'm crossing my fingers that he's going to make it. Kenshin is just today starting to swim around a little bit - his fins are very damaged... I'm hoping they heal up okay. And just tonight he took a pellet of food. (Compared to not touching it for the past couple days, but before he flew, he would eat about 3 pellets twice a day). But any progress is good.
I should have known better than to continue on the name of the previously suicidal fish, but I wanted to complete the little naming thing I had going. (Takeda, Shingen, Uesugi, and now Kenshin.)

Sometime in the near future I'll post pictures of my new guy. He's absolutely beautiful, though a bit tattered now.

Friday, January 23, 2009

Bettas

I have three colorful additions to my bedroom! Three betta fish! I haven't quite decided what I'm going to name them yet... they'll let me know given time. I feel like they must have Asian names, preferably warrior-esque names... after all - they are fighting fish.

So, given my insomniatic behavior over the past couple nights, I decided to capture in pixels their absolute beauty. I had varying levels of success... the products of my efforts can be seen below.


This little guy has one of the feistiest personalities I've ever seen in a fish. I haven't thought of a name for him yet - with his attitude, I'm sure he'll eventually scream it at me. (Just kidding... but seriously... to give you an example of his temperment... he was sitting there in his bowl perfectly content, his tail fanned out beautifully. When I brought the camera out, he proceeded to make sure he never stayed in one place long enough to get a good picture. This went on for what seemed like an hour... the little brat.) :-P





This guy is a ham. The camera came out and he posed for it.


This little guy, or rather, the biggest of the three, is a little odd. He alternates from sitting so still one wonders if he's dead, to swimming around like a banshee. He's cute though.

The two reddish ones hate each other with a passion. They glare at each other through their bowls, and so I am thinking of naming them after two Japanese rival daimios (barons). I'm thinking of calling the red/blue one Takeda, and the reddish/white one Uesugi. Rather odd, I know... but that's what popped into my head. Historically, Takeda Shingen and Uesugi Kenshin spent their entire lives competing against each other. They had large daimios but all they wanted to do was beat the other... so... seeing as the temperment of these fish are as such, I believe that they will be called Takeda & Uesugi. Or I may call them Takeda & Shingen - that would actually be fairly cute. But alas... I really need to get some sleep. The Hoggetowne Faire starts tomorrow and it's going to be fun, but a lot of work. :)
Goodnight.

Saturday, January 10, 2009

A Painted Sunset

I took these pictures about a month or so ago... it was a glorious end to a beautiful day. The evening sky was painted with contrasting brushstrokes... the horizon was ablaze in fiery orange slightly muted by a soft pink. Higher above the horizon, the sky was a little softer; the pinks faded into soft violet before morphing into the soft blue of the almost-twilit sky.

Thursday, January 8, 2009

Bushido Blanket


Blanket with the Bushido kanji I made as a Christmas gift for Josh.

A Flower in December