Phantom of the Opera

Josh and I went to see Phantom of the Opera a couple weeks ago. It was AMAZING!!!!

I have never seen anything brought to life that well on stage... it was unbelievable! As soon as it was over, both of us were ready to go right back in and see it again.

As soon as the Overture started, it filled the entire theatre, I could feel it swelling the air, and as music often does, it made me cry. The music was indescribably beautiful.

The movie is wonderful, the soundtrack phenomenal, but nothing, and I mean nothing can compare to hearing the Overture with a live orchestra.

And the singing... *sigh*... oh the singing... imagine a combination of a magical stage, and amazing operatic voices... Christine was amazing... the Phantom was realistically creepy, and Raul... Raul's voice was phenomenal... deep and rich... it was awesome. :)

Needless to say... as Josh and I saw it on February 13th, it was the best Valentine's Day date EVER! :)

If I ever get another opportunity to go see Phantom again, I am soooo going to see it... even if I have to save up for a year to do so. :)

*happy*

So happy :)
This is one of the pics on the Ocala StarBanner's website from the article they did on the SCA. The photographer came out to the meeting and fighter practice and she wanted a picture of me and Josh. It was rather odd because she wanted a romantic picture... how romantic can you get on demand of some photographer you don't know? I mean, honestly.
So yeah, we look a bit like deer caught in headlights, but I like it anyways. :)
*so happy*
:)

Human audacity never ceases to amaze me...

Sometimes the rudeness and sheer audacity of people amazes me... most especially with the attitudes of guys when they think they're "cool". Perhaps I should elaborate on this particular situation...

Yesterday when I was on my way home from Josh's, I stopped at the Pilot gas station by the on-ramp for I-75.
There were two Greyhound buses that had made a pit stop, and there was a group of guys hanging out by the buses. When I got out of my car and started pumping gas, a couple of them started commenting rather loudly to themselves, and then calling me. Apparently trying to get me to talk to them. When I studiously ignored their existence beyond that which enabled me to know how far away they were, one of them made a comment about "does she talk?"... Not to you is what I was thinking.
Honestly... do people actually think that catcalls and the like actually work? And if they do actually work, then how pathetic have our social spheres become?
It must be pretty pathetic for a group of guys to expect a girl to just randomly start talking to them on the street. What do they think? That we're stupid or something? I mean, come on... could they possibly get more crass? Well, I know that they can, but still...

The very fact that a group of guys would think to hit on a girl at a gas station, they don't know anything about her except her appearance, but perhaps more importantly, she doesn't know anything about them.
I'll be the first to admit that I have practically zero tolerance for such nonsense. It is one thing if the guy has at least some sentiment of class when he's hitting on me... then I'll usually be nice enough to thank them for the compliment but make it exceedingly clear that I already have a boyfriend. It is when they are rude and totally lacking any semblance of classy-ness whatsoever when I either completely ignore them or tell them to f***-off.
Honestly, it is pathetic... and it pisses me off to no end when people just automatically assume that their uncouth way of complimenting someone will achieve anything besides the one their "complimenting" wanting to shove a boot up their butt.

It is not a "compliment" to be hit on in a vulgar fashion. I feel that it is an insult to one's self-respect and standards to be treated in such a manner. There is an art to starting a conversation that may turn to a more flirtatious direction, and while I don't claim to be an expert on the topic, I sure as heck can tell the difference.

Women are not objects to be gawked and whistled at. We are human beings to be respected. And it is only when we have respect for ourselves, and demand it from others, that they will start listening.
And just because a woman doesn't have a man with her at that very moment, doesn't mean that one doesn't hold her heart... and out of courtesy for both the woman and her possible love... people should remember that if they wish to compliment, hit on, or otherwise flirt with, said woman, they should keep in mind the possibility of her already having a relationship, and approach her accordingly. With RESPECT.

"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..." ;)

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.

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. :)

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...