Log in

Word Up, Folks...

There’s so much life I’m not allow to share. Sometimes it’s easier to whisper your thoughts into a teacup than an ear, because a fresh batch of detached ears don’t come cheap, people. Personally, I think a smooth chai tea does the job of dosing me into passivity quite nicely, but if you don’t have the time, or concentration to sip warm drinks- we of the burnt lips and sandpaper tongues hear you- any cold caffeinated beverage will do.

My fellow writers, it has come to my attention that we need to review some of our internet courtesies. These are not directed at anyone specific, but a general refresher course- and of course, if you bitch me out, we’ll know which ones you’re guilty of, won’t we?

  1. If you plan to write: Write. Don’t feed other players platitudes. Be honest. We all have our off days-- when the creativity not only took a holiday but has licked the frozen pole in winter-- but don’t start a thread or promise to write one and then let the drunken pilot of your brain ship blast off to la-la-land. It only makes me want to grind your head over a cheese grater. If you’re stuck, ask for help or write your muse out of the thread. Don’t let a good group die because your brain did. (Mmmm...brains.)
  2. Don’t block or ignore your fellow players. If you don’t feel like talking or playing today, let your fellow writer know you’re tired. Yes, little white lies are okay, but in the age of technology, honesty is not defunct. (We see you.)
  3. It’s not personal, it’s roleplay. It has been said once and it bears repeating: YOU are NOT nor ever have been the CHARACTERS. You do not own the characters, they are the respective property of their creators. Other people can and will play them. Don’t go rabid fangirl or fanboy. It all boils down to respect. If you want to be a good writer, respect the characters as if they were a real living person and- *gasp* -their players as if they were too. (Or kittens. Yeah, kittens.)
  4. Keep personal emo shit out of the groups. If you just broke up, are on the rag, discovered the joys of love, failed a semester of school, are off your meds- whatever- step away from the keyboard. Recognize other players might not want to hear about that one time at band camp or other uncharacteristic emotions. Rule of thumb: If it doesn’t specifically impact your ability to write, save it for your therapist. (Mine will thank you.)
  5. Be creative! Formulaic is boring. If writing has become a tedious chore then it’s time to get inspired: Write, illustrate, create fanmixes, chat with your fellow players, whatever causes you creativity to grow like the waistline of the fat kid in a candy store! And if that doesn’t work- go on hiatus. It doesn’t mean goodbye forever, just so long for now. (Suck it, Sound of Music.)
  6. Have fun! (Word up.)
This is taken from policepenguin, who really is a more proficient writer than I, but in a foolish exercise in masochism self-improvement, I shall attempt my first writing challenge in...

And moving on with great haste--

Give me a character and a few prompts (could be a word, a situation, a lyric, what have you) and I'll drabble about them.

I reserve the right to have you wait at least a week because the Fates conspire. 

Some of my fandoms include: 
Supernatural: Azazel, Jo Harvelle, Ellen Harvelle
30 Days of Night: Stella Olemaun, Iris
Misc. movies

PLEASE. Tread softly, or I'll scratch your eyes out. :D

Bad luck.


That seething little cesspool of cosmic irony, the twister keeping you dizzily under thumb and grinding you back into the dust of the earth from which you came. Some days it seems not only is someone out to get you, but you, your folks, your car, your spindly neglected houseplant, and your little dog too.


If you’ve ever uttered those surreal words, “Thank God for bad luck or I’d have no luck at all” – Don’t. For there is no surer way to bring the swift and uncompromising universal magnifying glass retribution upon you than to be an ant with a bull’s-eye on your back singing “Fire” in first soprano – badly– and these days with the hole in the O-Zone conditions are right for an impromptu barbeque: Anytime, anywhere.


Still, if you’ve kicked spider webs into mirrors as often as I, bad luck should be a faithful companion as a dog heeled at your side. Yet, childishly it seems hell-bent on nipping at your heels spurring you on with promise of new day, then circling around piss on your leg and bite you on the ass:

Want to be in a loving relationship: Here’s a Norman Bate’s mama’s boy. Good luck though.

Need your car inspected?: Your car shall die on the start line. Good luck though.

Want to be thinner: I give you the holidays. Good luck though.

The evil genie’s out the bottle, kids, and there’s just no satisfying way to cork it’s I-told-you-so-pass-the-salt-for-the-wounds ways.


As the Dorothy’s amble blindly down the yellow brick road of life, it’s not the Wicked Witch that’s the provocateur; it’s fucking Toto. Next time, kick the dog outside and go back to sleep. The tornado will take care of the rest.


But good luck though...

Use of the Force

The new Star Wars movie opens tomorrow and our little elf gives the heads up on the flick but use a force push and get rid of the 'Star War-ers' as well...

By now everyone, from the oldest parents to the most reclusive geek, knows that the new Star Wars movie, 'Attack of the Clones', opens tomorrow in theaters. We, whom work at the theaters, know that means one thing- 'Star War-ers'.

Now I'm as big a fan of the series as the next person but I have never felt compelled to dress in elaborate Star Wars' garb and camp outside the theater for the best seats in the house. These nerds, who haven't left their parent's basement since Episode 1, now remerge into the light of day...kind of like Gollum, when you think about it.

It wouldn't be nearly so bad if they didn't try to 'be' the character towards us, as if saying the roles had been cast all wrong- they should have been made Anakin, Queen Amidala, etc. I have to admit though it is fun to screw with them.

Customer: I'm Queen Amidala.

Fallen: But you're a guy...

Customer: *hesitates* I...I'm Queen Amidala.

Co-Worker: Fallen! Don't tease the War-ers. They bite.

Fallen: In more ways then one...

In all fairness, I am a moderate Star War-er. I do enjoy it but personally I feel 'Episode One' was missing something. Me the elf, who can sit through three-hour movies and never blink, felt my eternity wasting away- a kryptonite of sorts for the Elves. In the midst of Anakin flying his starfighter I asked, "Is it over yet?"

I did however love the Jedi and especially the Sith. Yes; this little elf has formed a taste between the duel of good and evil, in its many forms- and nifty colored buggzapper (lightsabers) don't hurt either.

Well, getting back to the point (yes, there is one). I and my friends shall be heading over to the theater tonight to watch the sneak preview of Episode Two at 11pm. That's right employees get to watch the movie a day before for FREE! We shall have to travel in groups make it in, fending off the Star War-ers clawing at the doors to get in. Hmm... maybe I'll follow Obi-Wan’s suggestion and "use the force". 'Force pushing' the nerds away from the doors will allot we, the elite, enough time to make our way into see the sneak preview. Then again in the proud tradition of the Dark Side’s philosopher of ‘why dirty your hands when you can get someone else to do it’ I wonder in there’s a Trekkie convention is in town. =)

The duel of fates will continue outside but at least I watching at a safe distance. See you at the movies...

There & Back Again- still prefer to be there...
Just one of those days where our elf should follow her 'elfie-senses' & sleep-in...

Manic Monday.

Six o'clock already I was just in the middle of a dream/ I was kissin' Valentino by a crystal blue Italian stream/ But I can't be late 'cause then I guess I just won't get paid/ These are the days when you wish your bed was already made.

It's just another manic Monday (oh-woe)/ I wish it was Sunday (oh-woe)/ 'Cause that's my funday (oh-woe)/ My I don't have to runday (oh)/ It's just another manic Monday.

Have to catch an early train, got to be to work by nine/ And if I had an air-o-plane, I still couldn't make it on time/ 'Cause it takes me so long just to figure out what I'm gonna wear/ Blame it on the train but the boss is already there.

It's just another manic Monday (oh-woe)/ I wish it was Sunday (oh-woe)/ 'Cause that's my Funday (oh-woe)/ My I don't have to runday (oh). It's just another manic Monday...

(The Bangles, Maniac Monday)

Sparely can I believe this Monday's vengence for a good week spent. Last week, I had off from your friendly little high school because of Senior Trip to Florida that I did not attend.

'Why', you might ask.

I simply did not wish to spend the week at "The Happiest Place on Earth" with people I can bearly tolerate for several hours each weekday- than and this overwhelming fear of being mother-henned-to-death by teachers, whose classes I can barely remeber showing up to over the course of the last four years.

No, instead I spent my Senior Break with my friends and brother (Human/dwarf). Whether at Six Flags: Great Adventure watching the dolphin show or getting kanji "dragon" written over my heart in henna ink; or doing our best impression of a Mystery Science Theater 3000 show while at the premiere of your friendly neighborhood webcrawler, in the most comfy theater seats I have ever to happen upon; my friends have made it that much better...even if we got ripped off for food prices. (I told you we should have eaten outside the park! ><")

At six o' clock I was rushed out of bed. My elfie-senses told me, I was probably better off staying in under the blankets. It is rather difficult to listen to instinct when your mother is screaming about you tardiness and threatening your general wellbeing with a "God, help you if you miss that bus, Fallen!"

Wrapped in my skirt and somewhat adorable school girl uniform I walked up the hill to the busstop, fighting with my CD player the entire distance. Narrowing my eyes at the bright yet pleasant sunlight, I nurse on a water bottle while waiting for the hallmark of the American school- that damn yellow bus is late again...

Walking down the hallways, my elfie-senses on a full blown tingle, I knew something was very very wrong. The school seemed quiet...a little too quiet. I walked down the flight of stairs to the cafeteria and took note of a few empty tables but, after getting a carton of skim milk and a chocolate chip cookie bar, I paid it little heed and took my seat. I continued my English Honors 4 book 'Black Like Me' for a few minutes more before I was greeted with the sight of another fellow student, a disgrunted one at that, but yet still a senior. This alievated my fears slightly, allowing me to breath easier and polish off a few more pages.

"Have to check my e-mail," my mind repeated itself as I skipped up the stairs to the air-conditioned and often underrated library and their wonderful computers. Just as I thought I had won my battle against the constantly renivating Yahoo, the principal's voice sounded over the loudspeaker.

"All seniors are to go home." It seems as if the senior's plane had been delayed in Florida for a day and a half and had arrived back in our venue not but a few hours ago.

I was both ellated and wholly agravated by this announcement. I would have to call for a ride home that was a certainity. Yes, I did get to go home but I was already dressed for learning. I wanted to learn. Well my mind did, whilst my eyes and body wanted to reclaim their groove in the bed before the dog messed it up. So here I am, sitting on the front cement steps with a writing pad on my lap, pen in hand, looking out over the beautiful spring morning in a quiet sense of awe. The skies high above the little riverside city were so blue speckled with little white fluffy clouds like sheep grazing on blue grass, birds awakened and took flight, the air so warm and fresh that I had a moment of clarity to reflect upon my life and all the possilbities the future might hold for me... then I heard the sound of lips smacking as a callico cat gulped down the last of a pigeon...

I hate Mondays.

There and back again- still prefer to be there...

Waiting for the Other Shoe...

It's been one of those days but our little elf is a pro at adjusting for the other shoe to hit. Maybe if she was wearing it she wouldn't always injure her feet...

In my shoes my toes are busted. My kitchen says my bread is molded/ Got a good job at the dollar store/ One foot in the hole. One foot gettin' deeper/ With a broken mirror/ And a blown out speaker/ I ain't got much else to lose/ I'm faded, flat busted/ Been jaded, I been dusted/ I know that I've seen better days/

(Chorus:) One foot in the hole/ One foot gettin' deeper crank it to eleven/ And blow another speaker/ And I ain't got, I ain't got much to lose/ Cuz I've seen better days/ Been the star of many plays/ I've seen better days/ And the bottom drops out (2x)

My cup's filled up with five buck wine/ Find myself here all the time/ Another rip in the glass/ Another chip in my tooth/ Rained on, I've been stained on/ Found another goat I put the blame on/ Now I'm steppin' on all the cracks/ But I guess there ain't no use. I'm bent like glass second hand like glory/ Missed the bus but I'm in no hurry/ Molasses fast, no business born


I've seen better days/ Been the star of many plays/ I've seen better days/ And the bottom drops out!

(Citizen King - Better Days)

Yes, it has been one of those days that I've just learned to accept. It started like days you have off normally do- late. Now here a little known secret: I hate starting my date late.

I don't know what it was today but I was in a pretty good and generous mood.

I've been haunting the house, cleaning it, even going so far as cooking dinner for my family and cursing after wacking my toes against things every ten seconds.

"Fuck! Why? For the love of Valar, is it alway my pinky toes that get polverized," I scream in pain, rolling on the floor drawing my injuried tooties close to my body as if that would stifle the streeks of pains surging from my foot.

This simple action amused my brother greatly and encourage me to do it again- he didn't have his camera ready.

I can happily report the weather has returned to normal temperature; however we have placed been under a tornado watch I'm the only one who isn't worried about it. Nothing was going to stop me from going to this art school open house. I was going there come orcs or flying cows!

I had brought a sample of my artwork. The teacher praised it and said I needed only to hone a few of my skills. Personally, I was more interested in shaping my artwork into comics rather than animation. I believe there are things there I could learn to improve the general quality. I asked a few questions but for the most part sat there...with my foot in my mouth.

I couldn't draw the words from my mind. I always blank in public and when I blank my foot makes a b-line for my mouth.

My father says that's alright- at least it shuts me up.

There and back again- still prefer to be there...

The Roof Is On Fire

Unseasonable warmth has driving our elf out of the sunshine and in front of the computer. Finding a way to cope when its hot enough to set roof on fire...

The Roof is on Fire- We Don't Need No Water...

A record breaking unseasonable warmth has settled over my area of the country. Like a good little elf, warm weather only slightly miffs me, causing my hair to muss and stirring me to exchange my usual attire for airier materials ('I wanted silk but nooo.'). However yesterday at 97 degrees, a small finch dropping to earth fully roasted, sent my dog and myself careening for the air conditioner. I've been hiding ("working") upstairs in my room in front of my fan ever since.

Luckily for me, I own a small fan while my Orc-dwarf brother does not. Being that heat rises and we live on the top floor, he suffered so badly as to crawl down stairs in the early morning hours to cool off. My genius father turned off the air at midnight. My mother thinks he is going senile and I must agree with her... at least that's the story we're sticking to.

As I stated before this weather doesn't bother me but what makes the situation turn particularly grim is the tri-state area has under a serve drought warning. That means no one can cool off in the traditional dive in the pool- or if you are in my household a dip in the pond...if you don't mind sharing your watery seat with 10 big-eyed koi.

Speaking of the koi, I wonder just WHO is going to bring those fish in before they fry?

Ooooh... I had a chill run down my spine. Guess that answers my question. On the other hand maybe I'll surprise my folks... we're gonna have sushi tonight.

"We don't need no water let the little fishie (mother**er) burn. Burn little fishie (mother****er). Burn."

There & back again- still prefer to be there...

Hello, Big Brother!

Hello, Big Brother! Elf's contempations on Man's want of "privacy" & the loss there of... Mmm, chocolate...*nimbling on chocolate bunny*

'Big Brother' the name given to the intricate web of video cameras strung up in public areas to watch the population of the United Kingdom. Friends across the pond have always whined about a loss of privacy- like anyone has that anymore.

Let's face the entire human race feels like they are caught in a bad voyeur video. Privacy is dead but was it every really alive?

Since the time of the Man's Awakening, the Elves, Dwarves, the Ents, the Halfings and other animals were long grown to their maturity. That's right, we Elves watched humanity through its infancy- we pratically changed your diapers for Valar's sake. And the Elves were watched over by the Ainur (the Valar & the Maiar) whom were created by Ilúvatar, so the only one with any privacy was Ilúvatar who gave it up when he created this whole wonderful mess.

So humanity has numerous Big Brothers before you even knew about it. Like the cameras, we are all looking out for your best interest... Well okay; so not the dwarves... or the orcs but everyone has at least one of 'those' brothers.

Some brothers will nobly defend the younger (Men), other (Dwarves) will opportunistically aid only when it suits them, while others (Orcs) seize whatever they can from "the baby" in the helter skelter.

No matter how much you try you can't escape your family.

Never mind that we Elves sailed to the Undying Lands- we never abandoned you... just gave you room to grow...

Yeah, that's it.

Just one...big...*happy*...family...

There & Back again- still prefer to be there..

Sunburns in the Springtime

Noticing a trend of self deep frying inpart to the nearing summer season our elf is filled with despair. For she is pale- etheral pale. "Ahhh! It burns! It burns!" And you thought orcs hated the sun...

Sunburns in the Springtime

I am not a sadist- I'd like to state that first and foremost. I do, however, enjoy watching fate catching up with narcissistic idiots. They can't say they didn't get what they asked for... they just got a little more than for which they bargained.

Now I'm never up for deep frying any part of my body in the name of spring and summer fashion. That's right; I'll be most blindingly pale creature on the beach, my body made whiter against the contrasting colors of the sand.

I'm tired of people calling, "Hey, look it's *"Powder!" as I apply my SPF 65 fruit punch scented sunblock.

Some people don't deserve my conversation.

Let's face it with my ethnic background putting me in direct sunlight is like putting tinfoil in the microwave- there's sparks and a lot of pain. A particularly cruel but not usual punishment being that my parents encourage their "fair-skinned" pointy-eared child to go outside.

"Look, mom, I'm a crispy critter."

Traditionally I live my entire summer in denim jeans for as much comfort and safty as for necessity. The weather can reach into the 100's (degrees F) but I still won't remove them. You see, I require jeans to instruct my horseback riding lessons. I've ridden without jeans at let me help you, saddle-sores have nothing on bare skin rubbing against sweaty horse skin all day. And when I and the other stable workers decide to go for a swim not of the watering bin variety, which is never a choice more like 'being thrown in', we jump in... pants and all. The fun part really comes when you have to peel them off. ^_~"

I close by saying tanning is fine but when it comes to laying in a piece techinology shaped like a coffin to have your cells set ablaze by harmful cancerous artificial rays of light- count me out.

There & back again- still prefer to be there...

*A bad movie reference.

When Karma Attacks

Our little elf thinks this could be a FOX special but do deserving people REALLY get what's coming to them?


Called "fate" by some, "retribution" by others but "a real pain in the ass" by yours truly. Though I don't remember just exactly what I may or may not have done to encure the wrath of the Valar, one thing is certain: it must have been BIG.

Yesterday, I went to my doctor's office.

Well actually, "went" is the wrong word. "Dragging kicking and screaming" is more like it. Yeah, that works. Insert that.

My relationship with healers has been likened to that of orcs and sunlight. We just can't abide each other's presence. Really, it's nothing personal except that I don't want to be there.

My philosophy towards healers has been described as "a bit fatalistic" and "more than a little naive":

"If I do not go then they can't say there is anything wrong with me."


It's the good old 'ostrich with its head stuck in the sand' idea revamped. Only this time a small elf is in the flightless bird's stead.

Now that I have had shaken the sand out of my hair I can honestly say that I was happier not knowing. I returned from the periphery of torment with the request that I should get an 'echo cardiograph', which is just another way to say, they need to check for any heart murmurs. And I need an ultrasound.


Don't you snicker! I don't need an ultrasound for that!

Look, the only way I could be pregnant is if it's an immaculate conception... and since the last one happened more of less two millennia ago- I think the odds are greatly stacked in my favor.

The doctor said that it might not be a murmur. She said that the causes of an irregular beat could be from:
a) crappy food

b) lack of sleep

c) caffeine

d) stress

Oops. Can I circle all of the above?

I hope she's right. I'm freaking out cause there are major heart problems on one side of my family, my mother included.

She also said that the culprit of my panic attacks is stress. No shit. Then she suggested I see a shrink. I agree, this presents me with a brand spanking new opportunity to traumatize someone else's life.

Since not just bad karma occurs, although that's the one we feel more often than not, then so does good karma. And what good karma have I had yesterday?

My friend gave me a ride home and I found a dime.


That's it.

Well, look up there, I know my good deeds were scarce but honestly...

There and back again- still prefer to be there...