Tsaiko's neat, nifty URL of the day is: Rinkworks- Things People Said
On Tuesday, September 4, 2001 at 04:29 p.m. Tsaiko was slowly going insane. This is why:
Rinkworks has updated part of their site. Hence the link of the day. Despair, Inc. has not updated their webpage like they said they would. I want to see their new line of Demotivation posters. Hurry up and update!
In other words, the three day weekend was great. Nice and relaxing. I had planned on writing most of the weekend. Then my roommate went out and bought some Playstation games. Nothing special. Then I started playing one of those games.
Three days of playing Chrono Cross non-stop and all I can think about is that it'll be thirty more minutes before I can go home and start playing it some more. I hate the fights. Inevitably I get my but whooped in half the boss fights at least once. This makes for a bitter, unhappy Tsaiko. But it does allow her to watch the bishounen (all one that I managed to get)
Just a warning so I don't get any email saying I didn't warn you. There will be spoilers for the game ahead. Especially since you can get different characters every time you play. And since I do not have a strategy guide finding people is like walking around a dark room with a blind fold. Luckily, I'm one of these people that talks to everyone. Repeatedly. Just to see if what they said has changed,
This is both a good and a bad thing. Because I'm also one of these people who likes to click everywhere. Touch everything. Steal all that I can get my grubby little hands on. In FFIX I was the one who stole Grandma's savings of 5 gil. Can we say clepto? This puts me at a distinct disadvantage in Chrono Cross because sometimes you can't tell your enemies from a neat nifty object. Consequently, I get into a lot of fights which I could have avoided had I not gone "Ooooh, what's that?"
As for my one bishounen, that would be Guile. Guile is fine. I would be more than happy to have Guile's love child. I may have to write a fanfic or see if I can find a fanfic written about him. Shirt falling off.. uhhh... (brain has now entered final stages of melt down). Norris is okay. Cute, but too much in the boy next door kinda way. And is it just me, or was Nikki purposfully designed to be yaoi bait? I just met him because I had the misfortune of getting Greco the wrestler wannabe instead of Nikki. This is not fair.
Speaking of odd party members, why do I collect them like the plague? I have Mojo the walking voodoo doll with a nail through him, a big pink dog, a small white creature name Pip, the ugliest alien on record, a wrestler wannabe, a demonic clown, and ONLY ONE BISHOUNEN. There has got to be more bishounen. I've seen them walking around. So why can't I pick them up? Why?
Enough about that. You can tell I'm annoyed because I can't get more of the characters. Let's talk about other things that annoy me in this game.
Stuff falling on me from the ceiling. Monsters should be forbidden to fall on me. Because every time they do I just about three feet and almost go into cardiac arrest. I find this the most annoying thing about the game (right behind having to fight MegaStarky last night for an entire hour -_-).
Another thing that annoys me is the fact that it is so hard to jump or use certain items. You have to go to a certain spot, stand facing a certain direction, and then his the X button. If you don't do this exactly right, it doesn't work. This is annoying to the extreme.
Otherwise, it's a good game. Lots of plot. Wish there was less fighting. Fighting and I do not get along together. Because gaurenteed if there is a new, interesting, or completely moronic way for me to die I will find it. You're looking at the person who had to wait for an hour and a half in FFVII for Barret to croak because I was little and beserk and doing one hit point of damage per attack, while the thig I was fighting was doing a whopping three hit points of damage per attack. I basically got up, made my self something to eat, went and got the mail, came back and then watched myself get slowly beaten down for the next twenty minutes.
Oh, and Lynx is hot. I wouldn't call him a bishounen, but he is fine. Since Guile is not in my party right now (stupid other world), I consider qatching Lynx as compensation.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go read some fanfiction.
Tsaiko's neat, nifty URL of the day is: Despair, Inc.
On Friday, August 31, 2001 at 03:17 p.m. Tsaiko was slowly going insane. This is why:
Special thanks to Kyle, who found the website for the demotivation posters. They're say that they're into-ing the new line on Sept. 4th. Goody. I hate those motivation posters and absolutely love the demotivation ones. For some reason they just make my day :-(
I don't have many friends who are writers. Well, there's Cneko who does some really good fanfiction. She's also the only person I know who can write a complete story in dialogue, and yet you can understand everything that happens. No descriptions. Nothing but dialogue. She can say in four lines of speaking what takes me four paragraphs bogged down in description to write. Jealous? Just slightly.
There are a few other people I know who write. But they just write what comes to them. They don't actually think about the process. At least not that I've been able to discern. The few times I've broached the subject a few times and I usually get two kinds of responses. People looking at me funny, or hours of diatribe where the person outlines the plot of every story they have ever written.
No one I know writes seriously. I write. A lot. Yes, its more of a hobby but its a darn time consuming one. I've spent up to twenty hours a week writing when the urge strikes me. The problem with not having friends who write is that I have no one to talk to about writing. So I have no idea if people experience the same problems I do. Or how the heck they get over, around, and through the problems.
The closest I can get it author's notes. Reading them is like looking through a grate into the author's mind. You see bits and pieces of how the story was put together. The best ones are those by Stephen King. They helped the most with figuring out what was going on in my head, and how to go about getting it down on paper. Time was I wouldn't read a Stephen King novel unless it had Author's notes explaining where the story came from. It helped me immensely in my writings.
But I need some interaction. Reading words on a page does not let you ask questions. It does not let you explore trains of thoughts to their conclusion. And sometimes, it's more annoying than nothing at all.
I would email fanfic authors that I repsect. Talya, or Firecat, or WhiteCat, or Twig or Tenshi no Korin or lavdenderonion or any number of others who write much better (and seemingly, more professionally) than me. But I fear that they'll just brush me off. After all, what am I to them? A name, an email address, and words on a page. Nothing more. Just a stranger who has no one to talk to.
I've tried mailing lists. I think I have mastered the art of killing threads. It seems no matter what, as soon as I comment on something the thread comes to a horrible screeching halt. Or goes down in fiery ball of flames. Weeeeeeooooooooh, Kaboom! Oh, Tsaiko must have commented on another thread. I've tried starting threads, but most of the times nobody replies. Or they reply with something so far off topic that I begin to wonder about their thought processes. Besides, on mailing lists you run into the same problem as reading author's notes. Words on the screen can only convey so much.
The questions I ask are about the process of writing, of how the story comes out onto paper, about how the mind concieves of the ideas. Unfortuneately, this is usually how most conversations go.
Tsaiko: Okay, I know you've built this civilzation where women rule over men, but why?
Other person: Because.
Tsaiko: What about these temples? Why are they like this?
Other person: (re-iteration of the entire story which I have already read, adding nothing)
Tsaiko: Where did you get the whole idea in the first place?
Other person: It just came to me.
Tsaiko:Why did you write it in thirs person?
Other person: I always write in first person.
Maybe I'm alone in my desire to understand why my stories are the way they are. Why the threads of creating weave to form the pattern they do. Why I sometimes write one way for one story, and another way for another. Maybe I'm alone in deliberatly testing my writing skills. Challenging myself to write what other's call impossible believably. Seeing if I can use literary devices in ways no one's thought of. Exploring different styles, and limitations. Not because of class, not because I have to, but because I can.
Maybe I'll never find anyone who understands.
This entire rant was brought on by something that happened at work today. I was sitting at my desk, doing work when an image came to me. One of my characters, a guy named Freedom standing on the roof of a building, huge bronze bat wings arching above him like the ceiling of a cathedral. Watching the world with expressionless eyes. Illuminated by the atrificial light of outdoor lamp, with a sky of stars as his backdrop. The image was so strong, so perfect that I could see every thread in his jeans. I could feel the bitter edge to the fall air, taste the dryness of dead leaves, smell the scent of rain on the air.
Then just as quickly as it came, it was gone. I haven't worked on the story in nearly three months and suddenly the image was there. It left me with nothing but the urge to write and the knowledge that I couldn't share the creation of the story it inspired with anyone. No the words will have to remain with me until it is done.
Tsaiko's neat, nifty URL of the day is: Kari's Art Pages
On Thursday, August 30, 2001 at 01:03 p.m. Tsaiko was slowly going insane. This is why:
So I'm wandering around the internet because work is so boring I'm thinking of commiting sepuku with my pencil just to have something to do when I decide to visit Kari's livejournal. She hasn't updated because of computer problems. Stick a fork in her livejournal, I think it's dead. But I made it over to her webpages (hence the link) and noticed several things. One, she's got a new Digimon picture up (Davis rocks!) in the anime section. Two, she's drew a picture from the game Bubble Bobble in the toons section.
That is a trip down memory lane. My sister and I rented Bubble Bobble for my old Nintendo from Blockbuster several years ago. We thought it was hilarious. I haven't thought about that game in years. I don't remember what the point of the game was. just that it was fun to play.
One last thing. Wind mentioned me on her pitas page Yochi Suru for mentioning that I had reasonably good FY fanfiction on my homepage. She uses my real name, but that's one of the problems with emailing people from work. Oh well.
Tsaiko's neat, nifty URL of the day is: The Grand List of Overused Science Fiction Cliches
On Thursday, August 30, 2001 at 11:17 a.m. Tsaiko was slowly going insane. This is why:
My brain has officially gone on vacation. I might as well just leave work, go back to bed, and re-start the day. The link for today is to make sure that if I do start wiritng, I won't do it badly. Lord knows, the way this day is going, I need the help.
So why am I bemoaning my lack of brain power? To start off with, each morning I check out this long list of sites to see if there have been any updates. One of those sites is Acid Reflux. What's so odd about that? Well, I know for a fact that it hasn't been updated because the comic is waiting on my roommate's computer at home half colored. I'm the part time colorist for the comic. Yet, this did not stop me from checking anyway.
It gets worst. After doing this little number and feeling like a complete twit, I then proceeded to check out pitas pages to see if they had been updated. The problem? I checked my own pitas page to see if I had updated since the last time I updated. now unless I've been blacking out and one of my other aspects has been doing stuff without my knowledge (which they know better than to do), there is no way my pitas page could have been updated. Did this stop me from checking and then being disappointed when there was nothing new. No.
Tsaiko no baka.
In other news, LightHawk think that I should be a humorist when (if) I grow up. The rest of this post is dedicated to him.
The second meeting of TAAS was last night. One of the things they were shwoing was an anime called Noir. Basically, James Bond with girls. I swear, I kept expecting "Secret Agent Man" to start playing. Don't get me wrong, the music for the series is phenomenal. But if it doesn't pick up a unifying plot other than "girls with guns run around and kill people," in the next three episodes I'm ditching it.
Anyways, my biggest problem with the series was the fact that the female assassins were running around in backless shirts, perfect make-up, handbags, and high heeled sandals. Yes, nothing screams "fear me" like a Gouchi bag and Calvin Klein. At least these women were wearing bras. No repeats of Tomb Raider, thank god. But when you take a step back you realize how ridiculous it all is. Designer assasssins, your money funds our fashion addiction.
What are these series designers thinking? Can we have a dose of reality people? Have you ever tried to run in heels? No wonder those stupid blondes always turn an ankle in horror movies. I mean, they're walking on stilts! Why can't we see male assassins running around in stilettos? I'd buy it. Especially if they have a scene where one of the guys turns his ankle and has to be carried out by his bisounen friend. But no guys get to wear sneakers, and pants, and dark indeterminate clothing. Sensilbe clothes for bloodshed. While us girls are plotting horrible revenge against the guy who designed heels as we run for our lives.
It kinda reminds me of the old Sci-fi/fantasy book covers. The Sci-fi ones where the guy is pictured in a full space suit while the woman is about to fall out of her red bikini. Or the fantasy ones set in sub-artic temperatures where the guy has full length cloak, pants, boots, and long sleeved shirt while the woman is stuck in a fur trimmed mini-skirt, halter top, half-length cape (which of course is billowing for effect instead of actually preventing her from dying of hypothermia), and go-go boots. Just once I'd love to see the woman in the full outfit, and the guy freezing his ba.. buns off.
Buns. I intended to say buns all along.
Until then, I'll continue to read and write and hope for a day where the guys wear less clothes than the girls. Oh wait. That's what shounen-ai manga is for ^_^.
Tsaiko's neat, nifty URL of the day is: Writer's University
On Wednesday, August 29, 2001 at 03:02 p.m. Tsaiko was slowly going insane. This is why:
So I'm cruising around the net at work in between bounts of actual work looking for Good Omens slash/yaoi. Yes, the book by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. Specifically, Crowley and Aziraphale slash. This was little hunt was inspired by something White Cat said in her blog. I discovered two things in my search.
There is a pitiful amount of Good Omens slash out there. Between my roommate and I (email is a wonderful thing) we could only find about three or fics fics. One is really not worth reading. This fic by Togemon and this one by torch and this one also by Kelli J. are pretty good. Though not graphic -_-.
I also discovered this wonderful section of Writer's University called Guide to Author & Media Fan Fiction Policy. This site not only lists various author's opinion and policies about fanfiction, but tries to go into detail about why that author feels that way quoting various sources in the process. While I try to respect the original creator's wishes, I never really understood why people like Anne McCaffery and Anne Rice didn't want any fan work. This site really opened my eyes.
For example, I had no idea that the reason Marion Zimmer Bradley didn't want anymore fanfiction written without her consent was because a fan threatened to sue. Seems the fan wrote a story that was similar to what Marion Zimmer Bradley was working on and demanded both money and a by-line. In the end, the publisher refused to publish the book because of legal issues. Good grief.
Since I'm thinking of both re-reading and possibly writing some Good Omens slash, I am glad to see that the two authors I would be infringing upon don't mind. Okay, Neil Gaiman doesn't mind. Terry Pratchett doesn't want to accidently read it on the net. So if I put lots of warnings on my site warning off Terry Pratchett (like he's ever going to ever actually go to my site) I should be in the clear. Yeah.
As for me, I hope that when (if) I ever become a big time writer I remember that I wrote fanfiction once too. Just as long as nobody makes any money off of it, I don't see the problem. Just a bunch of fans having some harmless fun.
Of course, being on the net has taught me that no matter what, some people just shouldn't be allowed to breath much less write.
Tsaiko's neat, nifty URL of the day is: LiveJournal.com
On Tuesday, August 28, 2001 at 04:31 p.m. Tsaiko was slowly going insane. This is why:
Live Journal, I make obscene gesture in your general direction. Everytime I want to read about someone's life, you are down. Everytime I am bored, you are down. Everytime I think someone has posted new yaoi fragments in their live journal, you are down. You say that the ETA for your new servers is a week. To this I say, don't bother. You done pissed me off. I am so glad that I got a pitas page instead of one on your sorry @$$.
The moral of today is: do not get a blog at LiveJournal.com.
Tsaiko's neat, nifty URL of the day is: Gongaga 1.0
On Tuesday, August 28, 2001 at 01:17 p.m. Tsaiko was slowly going insane. This is why:
People want to archive my stories. This fact never ceases to amaze me. People want to put the stuff that I write on their webpages. For others to read. Today's webpage is run by Zack, who so very nicely asked to archive the One of Those Days series. Which has garnered many reviews out on FF.NET. The only one that's got more is the (A)typical Gundam Wing Fanfic.
I really need to work on my fanfics. Ever since I started working I've been either a) too tired to write, b) not in the mood to write fanfics, or c) trying to get settled into my apartment. I've gotten two very nice emails about my GW stories. Well, one nice one and one scary one. An email stating "Remember, your fans are waiting for the next part of the (A)typical Gundam Wing Fanfic. We are watching you" might get an author to write more, but it might also just freak said author out.
So what have I been doing? Well, my computer is still down for the count. So I can't work on anything I've already started. But I can start new stuff. Including some original stuff. Original yaoi stuff. And one possibly yuri story though I still can't figure out where the heck the thing wants to go. After all, what else would I write but smut ^_^.
One of the stories is actually about a year old. I started writing it last year when Aestheticism held a yaoi contest. Needless to say, I did not make the cutoff date for that. It's actually based on this really cheesy manga they had up on Aestheticism a few years ago. It dealt with samarai's and nijas, and poisoning people in... um... interesting ways. Do not ask where the poison was on the guy. You do NOT want to know. It was untranslated, and most of it was smut, but I followed the plot (what little there was of it) fairly well.
It spawned an idea. An idea that I tried writing four times before I finally found the right characters to work with. An idea involving a kitsune named Kojiro and a tiger-half named Hayashi. Can you say bishounen, boys and girls? I knew you could. My roommate also gave me some added inspiration when she told me that there was no way I could make such a flimsy plot beleivable. Oh ye of little faith.
The other story is one I write when its slow at work. It will be written in parts (unlike the Kojiro/Hayashi story which is going to one big massive thing). It won't be long before I have the first part done. I'm not sure where this story will wind up. I'm still finding out new and interesting things about the characters. Fun, fun.
Talking about oringinal stories, lavenderonion, who writes some of the best original yaoi stories out there, is thinking about starting an epublishing company that specializes in yaoi. She says something about having everything worked out by Dec. However, if you want something more immediate you can take a look at the Bishounen Ai Contest. It's a contest that will last until August 1st of next year. Check it out if you write original yaoi or if you are interested in writing original yaoi.
Yaoi. Yaoi. Yaoi. Is that all I can think about? Yes, why do you ask? Now to go see if I can make these characters do what I want them to.
Tsaiko's neat, nifty URL of the day is: Ugly Rooms for Beautiful People
On Monday, August 27, 2001 at 08:52 p.m. Tsaiko was slowly going insane. This is why:
I think the author of this site describes it best. Quoted in italics.
They meant well.
They only wanted the best.
Published in 1975 in Des Moines, Iowa - middle of the country, middle of the decade, middle of the latter half of the century. (My copy is the third edition of the fifth printing, which sounds even MORE middlish.)
The problem with this book is simple: it was launched at the nadir of the era of postwar taste - or the apex of bad taste, depending on your view. The sixties pop influences had melted into a purply goop of depressing “mod” styles; the older styles were still around, but didn’t belong in the 70s architecture, or looked embarrassed to be around the new colors.
They meant well; They only wanted the best. But this is what they told America was “good taste.” This was what millions of homes looked like, because Better Homes and Gardens told them so.
So I was trying to get out of the parking lot at my work to go to lunch. This was quite difficult considering that there was a big huge truck with a trailer used to haul around construction equipment parked behind me, leaving very little room in which to actually back out. this was a manly truck. Mud spattered, a few well placed scratches, all black and white and chrome. A construction worker's truck. A truck any man would be proud of.
Complete with a small, purple and yellow furby keychain clipped to the grill. Yep, nothing says manly like a cute furry animal on your truck.
Tsaiko's neat, nifty URL of the day is: What's my pirate name?
On Sunday, August 26, 2001 at 12:08 p.m. Tsaiko was slowly going insane. This is why:
Mine happens to be Mad Morgan Bonny. Though there are some questions I wish I could have checked more than one answer to. "When you talk about yourself in the third person, do you say "she" or "he"?" That's a difficult question for me, since it depends on which of my personalities is dominant. Poor Wolf. He/she is gender neutral most of the times. Questions like "sex" or "gender" usually generate responses like "No thanks" or "None today." Overall, still a good quiz.
And Kermit is sexxxy. Just ask Mrs. Piggy. Now on with the more serious side of Tsaiko.
Someone, long ago, asked me how I felt about my characters. I don't remember who they were. I don't remember why they were asking. Who knows? I may have asked it of myself once. But the question has haunted me ever since the words were spoken.
I have a very interesting relationship with the people who populate my worlds. Originally, for all intents and purposes, they were nothing more than little fragments of me. Reflections of what I am, what I was, what I thought I should have been. Creating worlds, populating them with characters, writing stories was a very complex mental challenge for me. A game played in my mind to keep me entertained.
It was fun, and at times a little rough. But in a good way, comforting way. Like letting your emotions run their coarse through others when you couldn't quite express theem yourself. Or a way of assuring myself that I wasn't alone, that their were others like me. Those that were different. A little odd, but still good people. Still capable of feeling, living, breathing, going through life, making friends, falling in love. Being happy.
Then my world changed. The worlds inside my head followed suite. They became darker, brooding, sharper, harder. Painful. More isolated. Sometimes I would retreat into my mind, to wander through the worlds there. Instead of making me feel better, they made tore at me the same way reality did. Something was different.
They were no longer the fun, bright places that I remembered. Places where good would always triumph over eveil, where sunlight was as welcomed as moonlight, and I knew ahead of time what would happen. The darker side of my worlds had reared its head. Like a creature hidden in shadows, it sunk razor claws into my mind until it drew blood. I couldn't deal with the pain. I blocked out my worlds, refused to go there. They crumbled. Some worlds died, dried and lost forever in the depths of the void. My imagination was crippled. Because of it, I wasn't able to handle my own world.
Reality nearly left me souless.
By the time I realized what was happening, it was almost too late. I had to start over with the most basic of tools, relearning to use an imagination that was barely able to handle the most simple of scenarios. Those first characters had all the depth of parking lot puddles. I grew frustrated. Blank pages of paper mocked my efforts. When I did write, it was so unbelievably bad I wanted to simple burn it.
The people in my head weren't real. you couldn't sympathize with them. They were souless dolls created out of words on a page. Once I stopped writing, they didn't continue on with their lives. They just fell to the ground like puppets with their strings cut. There was nothing behind them, nothing to motivate them. Nothing.
I knew there was more. Occasionally I would catch glimpses of what my characters and my writing could be. Colorful. Descriptive. Real. But that was all they were. Glimpses. Nothing that would last once I put pen to page. Nothing that would make anyone want to read or care or even love that I was creating something.
Then, in the darkness of the night, from the chaos that had become my worlds, I met a dragon who's name was Questor. Silver grey where all others of his kind were black. Born to be a leader of a race of dragons that existed to kill. Burdened with a destiny that would kill him, if allowed to happen. His pain burned like acid within my mind.
He came asking for my help. I gave it to him.
After Questor, it was like a floodgate had been released. I could once again write. I could once again create. There were others who needed my help, others who would tell me their stories. I had grown, and it seemed they had been waiting for me. Things could never be like they had once been. I learned to take the pain with happiness, the joy with the sorrow.
It still catches me off guard every once in awhile. I'll be sitting at a desk, or in class, or while driving working on a story in my head. And the pain/sorrow/hate/remorse that one of my characters is feeling will hit me, so fresh I shake with it while tears sting my eyes. Those are the times when I have to bite my lip to keep from keening. Other times I get a sudden buzz, and I have to laugh, sing, jump from the sheer joy of living. What they experience, I experience. I walk with them, talk with them, hold them, and love them. The feelings are so strong they can make me sick sometimes.
And everytime I think I can't take it, everytime the feelings get to be too much I remember one thing. This is the price I must pay for considering my characters to be as real as I am. I live with it, and I don't regret a single moment of it.
Someone, long ago, asked me how I felt about my characters.