Modesty & Muslims

This is an essay I wrote for my Islam & the Gospel class. I was told to write on any aspect of Islam that interested me, so I chose to write on modesty--from a Muslim perspective and an LDS perspective.

Women, Modesty, and Personal Choice
Modesty in dress and appearance seems to be a standard that is quickly on the decline in today’s society, especially in the United States. Sadly, I have seen this standard of dress almost completely abandoned by even some of my LDS friends, even though our prophet and other Church leaders so often emphasize its importance. So when I read in Colin Turner’s “Islam: The Basics” about the Islamic practice of modest dress, I could understand where the doctrine was coming from. Many people today see the wearing of the hijab by Muslim women as a sign of oppression or inferiority, but when one really looks at modesty from a religious perspective, wearing the hijab—or modest clothes, for LDS women—can often be seen as a personal act of piety and devotion to God (although, unfortunately, this is not always the case).

As an LDS young woman from California—land of short shorts, tank tops, and “progressive thinking” of all kinds—modesty has been a belief that has been both difficult to defend and difficult to uphold (due to a lack of modest options in clothing stores). Often, my friends would tease me about being “uptight” or a “goody-two-shoes,” asking what harm wearing shorter shorts could do anyway. Even though there were some other LDS young women around me, I often felt alone in my standards, as the other girls tended to wear strapless dresses, short shorts, and bikinis. I have always known that there are others that have standards of modesty in dress, but, quite honestly, they seem very few and far between when immersed in California society. I often questioned why I kept the standards that I did. That question always led me back to my faith and my love for God. My body is a temple, a sacred creation granted unto me by God, and that temple is holy (1 Corinthians 3:17). I kept the standards of modesty that I did because it was my personal choice to do so, and I am blessed to live in a country where I am free to exercise that choice.

Muslim women, similarly, have a standard of modesty. The big difference is, however, that Islam is not monolithic like the LDS faith is: there is no one central authority dictating what is and is not a “Muslim lifestyle.” The closest thing they have to any kind of central authority figure is the book of scripture, the Koran. The Koran says, in Sura 24:31, “And say to the believing women that they cast down their looks and guard their private parts and do not display their ornaments except what appears thereof, and let them wear their head-coverings over their bosoms, and not display their ornaments except to their [close family or slaves], or the children who have not attained knowledge of what is hidden of women…” This requirement of modesty from women seems to imply that there is no need for them to show off their bodies to people who shouldn’t have the sacred privilege to see them—a woman’s husband, close family, children, etc.
According to the Gospel Study tool on lds.org, modesty is “an attitude of propriety and decency in dress, grooming, language, and behavior. If we are modest, we do not draw undue attention to ourselves. Instead, we seek to “glorify God…” (“Modesty” ¶1). Though this statement came from an LDS source, it seems to fit the attitude of Muslim women as well; the point of modesty is to not draw undue attention to our bodies, it is an attitude of “propriety and decency.” This last point, however, is the source of much of the contention between women who wear the hijab and women who do not. In some areas, such as Palestine, women might be forced by law to wear the hijab or niqab, removing any personal piety from the equation altogether (Hammami 1990, p25). In other places, such as the United States, wearing of any kind of head covering is totally optional for Muslim women. One Gazan woman said that wearing the hijab “is not an issue for me. In my community it’s natural to wear it. The problem is when little boys, including my son, feel they have the right to tell me to wear it” (Hammami 1990, p26). Sadly, rather than the head covering being any kind of expression of piety or personal choice, for many women the hijab is simply yet another imposition by culture or local law.

Yet even when modesty is required by the law of the land, women can make wearing the hijab an act of personal choice. This is something I learned through my experience both at home in California and here at BYU. The standards of modesty that I strive to live started out as impositions by outside parties—my parents, general authorities, and church leaders. However, as I learned more about why those rules were put in place I came to a greater appreciation for the symbolism and the meaning behind the act of dressing modestly. I adopted the rules as my own personal standards of dress. It follows, therefore, that Muslim women can still make wearing the hijab an act of personal piety and devotion to their religion, even if it the clothing is required by cultural or governmental laws. Just as many non-LDS people might see my “inability” to wear a bikini to the beach as a limiting or oppressive act committed by some abstract chauvinist leader, many see the wearing of the hijab or niqab as horribly oppressive and degrading of women. It has become a political lodestone to many people (Ahmad 2008, p99), but it doesn’t have to be to the women who wear the head covering.

Though it has been the focus thus far, the hijab is not the only clothing that must be modest for Muslim women. They should not wear tight-fitting or clothes that reveal the legs or the upper arms. Material should not be sheer, nor, in many cultures, should the fabric be brightly colored or patterned. (http://www.islamicboutique.com/dresscode.asp). Similarly, LDS women should not wear tight-fitting clothing, see-through or revealing clothes, short shorts, or tank tops, and should avoid “extremes” in styles (First Presidency and the Council of the Twelve 2001, p15-16).
Discovering this similarity between Islamic and LDS cultures—modesty and the struggle to live it personally—has really helped me to see how similar our faiths really are, even in the little things, like how we dress. Modesty can be a personal choice for women, no matter what the laws or cultural norms may demand. For Muslims, it might be the hijab or niqab; for me, it might be longer shorts or modest dresses. No matter what the specifics might be, we can choose to make it a matter of personal devotion to our religion. 

I Am a Child of God

This is yet another essay written for my Strengthening Marriage and Family class, winter of 2011. This essay was a "personal application" essay, and, to be honest, has taken some serious guts for me to post here. I've included the references, in case anyone is interested. Feel free to leave (positive) comments below, or to email me with any questions.


I Am a Child of God


The society we live in today is not kind to a young woman’s self-perception. She’s too fat, too thin, too tall, too short, too smart, too dumb, too promiscuous, too prudish, too quiet, too loud. She’s always put down, rarely lifted up. She spends her life striving for some ridiculous ideal that she can never quite put her finger on, but that exists “out there” somewhere, proliferated by media influences, peers, and her own insecurities. I know all of this from personal experience. People tell me I’m smart, pretty, and talented. Yet it often feels like nothing I do is quite good enough, no matter how hard I try I’m not pretty enough, and no matter how often people remind me that I’m a child of God it doesn’t seem to stick in my brain. The Family Proclamation says that “Each [human being] is a beloved spirit son or daughter of heavenly parents, and, as such, each has a divine nature and destiny” (The First Presidency and Council of the Twelve Apostles, 1995, ¶ 2). This paper is about applying principles of the Family Proclamation in our own lives. I have chosen to focus on that line from paragraph two to apply in my life, since remembering my own worth is something that I have struggled with for years. In order to apply this principle in my life, I have read scriptures and Ensign articles about self-worth and self-image, participated in the BYU Women’s Services 10-Day Body Image Challenge, and found friends that I can confide in. As I have been practicing applying this doctrine in my life, I have yet to master the principle, but living it—although imperfectly—has already helped me vastly improve my self-perception. For me, the journey to solid self-esteem is on-going.

Readings on Self-Image
There are many talks and Ensign articles about self worth, divine nature, and our royal heritage. After reading through many of these texts, I have found a few gems of wisdom that have particularly helped me with my own struggles. Perhaps my favorite of these is an excerpt from a Liahona article entitled “The Worth of Souls is Great.” It says, “Where… [many] sisters are mistaken, is in judging their worth by their circumstances or how they appear to others. They have forgotten that we all have inherent worth simply because we are daughters of God! Though our lives and circumstances may change, our worth does not.” (“The worth of”, 1989, 7). In all my reading of Church literature, I have rarely come across something that struck me so personally. While I by no means considered myself a slave to fashion or similar trends, I do very much care how I am perceived by others. I get self-conscious far too easily and far too often, and that self-consciousness often turns into feelings of insecurity, worthlessness, and self-doubt. What I need to remember is that my worth has been set in the eternities and will not change, no matter my temporal circumstances at the immediate moment.

Another favorite quote that I came across was in Elder Richard G. Scott’s conference address titled “The Sanctity of Womanhood.” Elder Scott says, “So many of our sisters are disheartened, even discouraged, and disillusioned….Satan has unleashed a seductive campaign to undermine the sanctity of womanhood, to deceive the daughters of God and divert them from their divine destiny.” (Scott, 2000, 36). Disheartened, discouraged, disillusioned—all words that can describe how I personally have felt at one point or another. The world does such a wonderful job of tearing down the self-esteem of women (especially young women), and it is difficult to remain positive in such a derogatory environment. When I read Elder Scott’s quote, what comes to mind at the end is “Never give up; never surrender.” Though the devil himself fights against us with all his “hail and mighty storm,” as it says in Helaman 5:12, we must never give in to the battering of the adversary. So many of us are disheartened, discouraged, and disillusioned with life because of the negative environment that society tends to thrust upon us. We are so hard on ourselves—I am so hard on myself—because of what the world tells us, and tend to forget what the Lord tells us. The world tells us of our shortcomings, our failures, and our nothingness; the Lord tells us of our worth, our potential, and our divine heritage.

What this all boils down to for me is a positive attitude. If I have a positive outlook on life and on myself, then I am more likely to see potential, rather than potholes. If I remember that I am literally a spirit child of God, then it will be easier for me to remember that my worth is great, and not only is my worth great, but it is unchanging. In order to foster a more positive attitude about the world around me, I began keeping a gratitude journal. In it I recorded things I was grateful for, from flowers, rain, and sunshine to my body’s ability to laugh, run, and dance. The more I thought about it, the more I had for which to be grateful. Similarly, I kept in my personal journal a running list of things that I like about myself. This task was monumental for me. I do not like attention drawn to me, and I do not like to brag. Thus, recording things daily that I like about myself is not an easy task for me. The positive traits started out small—“my hair cooperated today and didn’t look awful”—but soon grew to more sweeping realizations about my own character and talents—“I am caring and compassionate, and someday I will make a great mother.” Recording these things was not a way for me to boast about how awesome I am; rather, it was an opportunity for me to learn to love myself, without an ounce of conceit. This was a healthy relationship with myself that I was beginning, and one that I am still working on today.

10-Day Challenge
One resource I discovered on my journey to better self-esteem is the BYU Women’s Services office on campus. The first event hosted by them that I heard of was the 10-day body image challenge. Because of my history with poor self-image, I decided to sign up and participate. This challenge had me do things like read quotes, scriptures, and talks, record thoughts in my journal daily, exercise for fun, and make a list of things I love about myself as a person and things I love about my body itself. As a child of God, I have been given the divine gift of a physical body. God loves me and He created this body for me. However, I have been so trained by society to hate my appearance and to always want to change or improve something about my body that seeing this 5’8” chunk of flesh and bones as a divine inheritance was difficult at best.

I remember crying as I sat to make the list of 10 things I love about my body; I got to number 2 and had run out of ideas. There was no way I was ever going to come up with a whole 10 things I loved about my body! My mind flashed back to emotions, feelings, and thoughts I had had before. I remembered the times I felt fat, ugly, misshapen, and unattractive. I recalled the days where I had looked in the mirror and nit-picked about my face, my hair, my skin, my teeth, hating what I saw but hating even more what I felt. I remembered that awful summer when my self-esteem sank so low that I was never pleased with my shape, no matter what my friends told me. That summer when I felt ugly and unwanted. That summer when I struggled with bulimia. That summer that was my own personal hell. I never wanted to go back to those feelings, never wanted to be anywhere near where I was emotionally that summer. But here I was, sitting on my bed trying to make a list of things I liked about my body, flashing back to those awful memories. I knew that none of those feelings came from God, but in that instant it was hard for me to see why I should like my body, why I should regard it as a sacred gift given to me by a loving Heavenly Father.

Then, in a moment of clarity of thought, I remembered—I remembered why my body is so sacred, why I should love it, flaws and all. Heavenly Father gave me this body. He created me in His likeness. “All human beings—male and female—are created in the image of God.” (The First Presidency and Council of the Twelve Apostles, 1995, ¶2). Would I ever criticize God, especially on something as shallow as outward appearance? No, never. Would I want Him to hear my belittling and bemoaning the very body He gave to me, created to look like His? Not in the least. Why, then, would I worry about my outward appearance to such a degree? The answer lies in Elder Scott’s quote from earlier: “Satan has unleashed a seductive campaign to undermine the sanctity of womanhood, to deceive the daughters of God and divert them from their divine destiny” (Scott, 2000, 36). Satan was the root of all of this self-hatred. How dare I let him win this battle! How dare I slander the God-given gift that is my body! With this fire in my veins I sat down to start again on the list of 10 things I love about my body. After a few more tears of frustration, I finished the list.
The 10-day body image challenge is perhaps the best thing I have ever done for myself. It didn’t magically fix all my self-image issues, but it gave me some tools to use for reminding myself that I am a “beloved [daughter] of heavenly parents, and, as such, [have] a divine nature and destiny” (The First Presidency and Council of the Twelve Apostles, 1995, ¶2).

Friends I can Confide In
I started this essay somewhat bashing today’s society and all its negativity, but not everything about society is inherently bad. One major example of this fact is friendship—no one is meant to go through this life alone, and everyone needs a good friend they can lean on when times get tough. The key word there is “good” friend. We all need a Christ-like shoulder to cry on every once in a while, and for me this was an important part of learning self-esteem. I mentioned earlier a miserable summer that I endured. During that time, I turned to two of what I then considered my closest friends for support with my struggles with bulimic tendencies. These two friends happened to be non-Mormon males, and they were not the Christ-like friends that I needed at that time. They both assured me, vigorously, that I was in fact, not unattractive. But for some reason, hearing that from them made the problem worse; now all I could think about was how to become more attractive, more appealing to them. The thoughts and feelings I was having got worse.

Eventually, after moving back to Provo (away from those peers and situations I had been in all summer long), I was able to get my head out of the self-loathing funk it had been in for months. The problem didn’t completely disappear, but it went far enough to the back of my mind that I could pretend it wasn’t there anymore. But, as most lurking problems do, my self-hating reared its ugly head again—this time while I was dating a wonderful returned missionary who, I was sure, did not want to deal with this crazy chick’s issues. He and I had been dating for no more than a few months at this point, but already I could tell that he was the kind of Christ-like friend I needed to help get me through the struggles I was having. One night, I simply broke down crying and told him everything—the past mistakes, the self-image issues, the bulimic tendencies, all of it. He held me as I cried, reminded me that he thinks I’m beautiful, and, most importantly, reminded me that God loves me more than anything. He helped me to work through the pain and the self-loathing, to begin to see what he and God saw in me—inherent worth and beauty, regardless of outward appearances. He was the kind of friend I needed. He was the kind of friend I could confide in, and because of his loving responses, I was able to begin to see the good in myself. I found that I didn’t need to change my appearance or lose weight to be beautiful to him—or to God. I didn’t have to fuss and fidget and pluck and primp to get a guy’s attention. I didn’t have to be a slave to those awful thoughts that had ensnared me before. I could finally be simply myself. And it was a wonderful feeling.

Conclusion
This process is far from being over. I still struggle—sometimes daily—with feelings of insecurity, inadequacy, and unattractiveness, but things are looking up for me. I can still find things that I like about myself, I still have days where I can feel pretty, and I am learning to more consistently have a positive outlook about myself and about life. That wonderful RM that held me and helped me through my struggle for self-worth is now my wonderful fiancé, and he still stands beside me as I work through days of fault-finding and nit-picking about myself. Though just a small phrase in the Family Proclamation, the line I focused on—“Each [human being] is a beloved spirit son or daughter of heavenly parents, and, as such, each has a divine nature and destiny”—has helped me to strive more continuously for a positive self image that is more in line with God’s view of me. What best sums up my experience was recorded in my journal from just the second day of the 10-day challenge: “Confidence—not pride, conceit, or arrogance—is where true beauty stems from. I know that, in the grand scheme of things, I am ‘less than the dust of the earth’ but I also recognize that I have such infinite worth. I am a child of God. My worth cannot be diminished.”


References
First Presidency and Council of the Twelve Apostles. (1995, November), The family: A proclamation to the world, Ensign, 25(11), 102.
Scott, R. G. (2000, May). The sanctity of womanhood. Ensign, 36.
The worth of souls is great. (1989, September). Liahona, 7.

"My Home as a Temple"

For my Marriage and Family class, I read an essay titled "My Home as a Temple" by Kristine Manwaring. This is the response I wrote to it.



Years ago, a friend’s mom brought her over to my house for a sleepover. Though neither my friend nor her mom was Mormon, both were at least somewhat religious. The mom made a comment that day that has stuck with me in the years since: she said that she loved coming to our home, because she could feel such a good spirit about the place. I lived there every day for years, and never noticed the ‘sweet spirit’ she said she felt the moment she walked through the door—especially not through all the stress, tension, mess, and rush that was there day in and day out. But when I thought about it, I could feel the Spirit filling our home, too, as we (especially Mom) worked to make the house a true home.

The Proclamation on the Family states that “parents have a sacred duty to rear their children in love and righteousness, to provide for their…needs, and to teach them” (Proclamation para.6). As parents, we must do for our children in our home what the Lord does for us in His house: raise, nurture, and instruct. We cannot do this properly without the Spirit being present, and the Spirit will not dwell where people are not living worthily. Our homes must become spiritual oases from the world, much as the temple is an oasis. For me, it’s hard to understand that my house can still be worthy of the Spirit if it’s not silent, if there’s a little bit of clutter on the table, or if dirty laundry isn’t quite done yet. The author, Kristine Manwaring, had the same struggle, trying to force her home to be as silent and pristine as the temple is. But with little kids and busy schedules, that simply wasn’t going to happen. She resented doing housework, feeling that it took away from her time to be peaceful and reflect on sacred things. Through talking with her neighbor, she learned that what she thought of as dreary drudgery could actually be a lifestyle patterned after the Savior’s, if her attitude were right. One phrase out of her essay really struck a chord with me: “When we care for the physical as well as the spiritual needs of our families, we are patterning our lives after the Savior” (Manwaring para.6).

I think the thing that I learned the most from this essay was summed up quite will by Manwaring. She says that we don’t need to try to force our homes to be as sacred as the temple—as silent, pristine, and utterly holy. “The sacredness,” she says, “is somehow already there” (Manwaring para. 7). We just need to focus on our attitude towards daily living—the cleaning, the cooking, the errands, the frenzy, and the fun—and make sure that w recognize the sacredness that is an integral part of a family-centered home.

"The Family and the Kitchen Sink"

This is an response to the essay "The Family and the Kitchen Sink" written by the Jeff and Juanita Hill family. This was written for my Marriage and Family class at BYU.


My parents’ home has a large backyard that includes a sandbox, a play structure, lots of lawn space, a few fruit trees, and, usually, a small garden. While I loved playing in the backyard, I hated the yard work. Who wanted to spend their gorgeous Saturday morning pulling weeds out of the bug-infested sandbox? Or planting tomatoes (ew!) in the hard dirt on the hill? Or, worst of all, cleaning spider webs off of the play structure—with the spiders usually still there! But we worked together. It was a time of grumbling and whining, yes, but also of laughing and talking with my parents and siblings. It taught me to love that sense of accomplishment that came when, after 3 hours of pulling, the sandbox is finally cleared of weeds. It taught me to work.

The Proclamation says that “Successful marriages and families are established on the principles of ...work, and wholesome recreational activities” (para. 7). It also says that parents have a responsibility to teach their children “to love and serve one another” (para. 6). What better way to accomplish both of these divine mandates than by implementing family work? The Hill family talks about their family work tradition of doing dishes together and all the lessons they each learned from that time spent together. They didn’t talk about temporal lessons like how best to clean a roasting pan or how to organize team work, but talked instead about life lessons they learned—sacrifice, respect, facing challenges, developing talents, and family bonding. Together, they learned so much more than what was on the surface. Washing the dishes, for their family, was a form of work and of wholesome recreation; they made a game or competition out of it many times, but the work still got done. They came to enjoy the time together. Through this family work, their family became closer and happier, it seems.

What I learned from this essay is a two-fold lesson: First, my parents weren’t trying to punish us when they made us pull weeds or plant tomatoes; they were teaching us to work. Second, family work and recreation is something that I want to implement in my own home. I’m getting married at the end of the semester, and something that’s been on my mind a lot is what kind of home I want to have, what kind of traditions and habits I want to create, and how things are going to work in my own home. I’d already thought about chores and things like that, but that was more as a way to lighten my work load. Now I want to find ways to incorporate family work, not for the convenience, but for the family bonding and the lessons we can all learn from it.

Remember: The Worth of Souls Is Great in the Sight of God

This was a project for my D&C class, called "Experiment Upon the Word," where I was supposed to take one principle of doctrine being discussed and create an "experiment" to implement for 10 days, in order to learn for myself the truth of the principle. I chose D&C 18:10

Date of Project: October 10-18
Principle: Remember—The worth of souls is great in the sight of God.


Reason for choosing this topic:
As a college-age female, I have lots of insecurities and often am too harsh on myself, especially when it comes to self image and body image. I heard about the Women’s Services “Recapturing Beauty” campaign and the 10-day challenge they are doing, and, combined with our study of D&C section 18, decided I was really going to take this seriously. I know that my feelings of self-doubt, my poor self-image, and my insecurities do not come from God, for “the worth of souls is great” in His sight. I chose to do an experiment on those words and learn for myself what I am worth to God.
(Note: I plan on using the 10-day challenge as a jumping-off point for my Experiment, and adding my own study and reflection to the challenge that they have designed.)

Plan:
• Find and read (at least) 3 talks on self-worth, self-image, and the like. Take note of things that stick out to me.
• Participate in BYU Women’s Services’ “10-Day Challenge,” which includes things like reading scriptures and writing in a journal positive things about self-image, as well as things like exercising, not criticizing your body, etc.
• Make a point of complimenting others and pointing out the good in them. Avoid negative talk.
• Each day, record one thing I love about myself.

Outcomes:
• I’ve always known about my divine nature, etc, but through this experiment I learned a lot of things about how I can realize my worth.
• I learned that perfection is a process, and that it’s okay for me to be imperfect. A favorite quote that I found is, “We often worry so much about pleasing and performing for others that we lose our own uniqueness, that full and relaxed acceptance of ourselves as a person of worth and individuality.”
• In a talk by Neal A. Maxwell, he says, “There is a difference … between being ‘anxiously engaged’ and being over-anxious and thus underengaged.” This quote really stuck out to me because I tend to try to have everything perfect. If it’s not perfect I feel like a failure, so I usually end up feeling stuck before I even begin.
• I made a list of things that I like about myself. I found things about myself that are positive and likeable. It was hard for me to do, but I felt good about myself afterwards. I could see in myself reasons why others would love me for who I am. For my list, I made sure that I didn’t include things just because others have liked them; I know my fiancé thinks I’m beautiful, but I wanted to be able to see it for myself. I think making sure that I honestly believed each item on that list really helped me to think about my positive attributes and to be grateful for them.
• I learned that gratitude is so very important. In a talk by Margaret D. Nadauld, “What You Are Meant To Be,” she mentions over and over again that you can recognize “grateful daughters of God” by how they act, dress, and live. This reminded me that it’s not just important that we dress modestly and know of our divine nature, but we must also show gratitude for the multitude of blessings God grants to us each and every day.
• At the end of the 10 days, I was able to look in the mirror and see my own beauty. Without makeup. This is something I have not been able to do before.

Conclusion:
This experiment may have been one of the best projects I’ve ever undertaken for myself. I learned so much about the worth of a single soul to God, the worth of my soul to Him. What sums it up best was recorded in my journal from just the second day of this project: “Confidence—not pride, conceit, or arrogance—is where true beauty stems from. I know that, in the grand scheme of things, I am ‘less than the dust of the earth’ but I also recognize that I have such infinite worth. I am a child of God. My worth cannot be diminished.”

Textism, Chatspeak, and Gamer Lingo in Everyday Spoken English

This is a paper written for my Semantics class. I'm posting it here so that I can get feedback a little easier. Please let me know what you think!


Technological advances in the last two decades have afforded millions the opportunity to connect in a whole new way – and on a whole new time scale. Instant messaging, online interactive multi-player games, and SMS/text messaging have allowed people to connect instantly and easily, no matter how far apart they may be in reality. With the advent of such instantaneous connectivity, “fast” is the catchword of the day. Why bother calling when you can send a text? Why waste time sending an email or – heaven forbid – a letter when you can hop onto an Instant Messenger and shoot off a quick inquiry that can be answered in seconds? In fact, why hassle with typing out entire words or phrases when abbreviations and shorthand can do the trick? A “faster is better” mentality pervades. The abbreviated, shorthand substitutions used in SMS and online chatting have become the lingua franca of digital communication. The “lol”s, “omg”s, “wtf”s, and “brb”s that fly across Internet connections have formed the basis of a new linguistic genre that is largely popular among teenagers. As the language of teens tends to do, the online language – the slang of the day – has spread from digital to oral communication and permeates the spoken interactions of those who use it most. My intent is to describe and discuss the growing genre of chatspeak, textisms, and gamer lingo by explaining the meanings of terms and phrases used and giving examples of their use in spoken everyday English.

What are genre and register?
For my paper, I am using the definitions of genre and register as set forth by Charles A Ferguson in his article “Dialect, Register, and Genre: Working Assumptions About Conventionalization.”

A linguistic genre is “a message type that recurs regularly in a community (in terms of semantic content, participants, occasions of use, and so on) ...[which] over time [develops] an identifying internal structure, differentiated from other message types in the repertoire of the community” (Ferguson/Biber, 21). In other words, a genre is a message type used by a group that is somehow different than conventional communicative message types.

Register is defined by Ferguson as the “identifying markers of language structure and language use, different from the language of other communication situations” that develop in a “communication situation that recurs regularly in a society (in terms of participants, setting, communicative functions, and so forth)”. He goes on to note that these registers consist of “similar vocabularies, similar features of intonation, and characteristic bits of syntax and phonology that [are used] in those situations” (Ferguson/Biber 20). A conversation between computer programmers discussing their latest project would be filled with technical jargon and ways of speaking that I, as a linguist, would not understand; they use a different register than I do. However, these same computer programmers could engage in a conversation in a more casual situation, wherein they would switch registers to one used in everyday conversation; this register would have far fewer technical terms, perhaps less formal syntax, and would be more easily understood by the non-programmers with whom they might be conversing.


What are textisms, chatspeak, and gamer lingo?
For those that are newcomers to text messaging and online chatting and gaming, this way of communicating can be confusing and overwhelming. But to those for whom chatspeak and textisms are the norm, the shorthand is as decipherable as standard English. Here I will define textisms, chatspeak, and gamer lingo, based on their origins, use, and general characteristics.

Textisms are the shorthand and abbreviated forms used in SMS (short message service) messages sent using cell phones. These forms are usually acronyms composed of the first letter of each word in the phrase; “OMG,” for example, stands for “Oh My Goodness,” “TMI” is short for “too much information,” and “IDK” means “I Don’t Know.” Shorthand forms for common phrases such as these are useful because SMS ‘texts’ are limited to 160 characters. Most cell phones also don’t have a traditional QWERTY keyboard, making typing much more difficult. The character limit and the difficulty presented by the lack of a full keyboard is what led to the use of acronyms instead of phrases. Another characteristic of textisms are shortened forms of words – again spurred by the character limit – such as “bf” for “boyfriend” or “presh” for “precious.”

Chatspeak is the language used in online chatting. Facebook chat, AOL Instant Messenger (AIM), Yahoo Messenger, Google Chat, and endless numbers of “chat rooms” are some of the many venues that provide a way to send “instant messages” online. While these services are almost always used on a computer with a QWERTY keyboard and they do not have character limits, thus eliminating the need for shortened forms, the same sort of shorthand used in texting is often used in online chatting. “BRB” (be right back), “LOL” (laugh/laughing out loud), “BTW” (by the way), and “JK” (just kidding) are some examples of the shorthand characteristic of chatspeak.

Millions of people around the world play online multiplayer games, known as “massively multiplayer online role-playing games” (MMORPGs). World of Warcraft (WoW), an immensely popular MMORPG, alone has over 11 million players worldwide. In many of these online interactive games, players (“gamers”) coordinate and cooperate to achieve goals together, though there are some games that are ‘interactive’ which are played mostly solo. Talking about how organizing “raids” (a large group of players working together toward a goal) in a game of WoW works, Michael Earl said,

Using WoW as an example again...Raids require groups of ten, or of twenty five people to coordinate for the purpose of completing a dungeon raid. This involves a leader strategically recruiting players, coordinating schedules, and maintaining peace between [players] numbering from ten to thirty or more. And this doesn't even begin to describe the coordination required between each of the players once the raiding has actually begun. Often times, a single mistake by one player can cause the raid to fail.

Gamers in this instance need a way to communicate quickly and effectively, which is why they use the shorthand seen in texting and chatting. Gamer lingo combines the shorthand with slang terms created and used solely in gaming. In the gamer world, “noobs” (“newbies,” or new players) get “pwned” (“owned” or beaten, conquered) by better players, when someone completely messes up or fails to do something they attempt it is an “epic fail,” and the commonplace exclamation of excitement is “woot!” The slang used by gamers came about the same way that all other slang has – a particular group of people started using different words or phrases, and it caught on with those connected to that group. Combine this slang with chatspeak, and you have the linguistic register referred to here as ‘gamer lingo’ or ‘gamer speak.’ While it may not be decipherable to non-gamers, the distinctive lingo used by gamers is quite effective.

Words and Phrases Common in Chatspeak, Textisms, and Gamer Lingo
Table 1 lists common words and acronyms used in chatspeak, texting, and gamer lingo with brief approximations of their meanings. While this is by no means an exhaustive list of terminology, this table should serve as a brief introduction to some of the most common of the chatspeak terms. Most of the following terms are used in all three categories discussed here – chatspeak, texting, and gaming – but some of them are used more exclusively in gaming. Those used almost exclusively in gaming are marked with an asterisk (*).

LOL - laugh(ing) out loud
JK - Just kidding
OMG - Oh my goodness
TMI - Too much information
IDK - I don’t know
BTW - By the way
BRB - Be right back
WTF - What the flip?
AFK - Away from keyboard
BFF - Best friend forever
BF/GF - boyfriend/girlfriend
ROFL - Roll on floor laughing
Pwn* - ‘own’
gg* - “good game”
Noob* - “newbie” or newcomer
Woot! - Exclamation of excitement
Leet* - “elite”, superior players
Win* (adj) - Cool, revered, awesome
fail/epic fail - Complete screw-up
nvm = Nevermind
ily - I love you
? - "Question mark?", I don't understand; what?
ftw/for the win - awesome, good; for the purpose of a victory

Chatspeak and Textisms in Spoken Conversational English
Although these forms of communication are all primarily “written” (typed) as opposed to spoken, they do not quite fall into the traditional category of ‘written communication’ that includes forms such as letters, essays, books, and even emails. The difference is in the timescale – letters, books, essays, and emails are all meant to be written now and read later, but chatting, text messaging, and gaming are all immediate. When a text message is sent, a response is expected to be prompt. Coordinating efforts in gaming must be done in real-time. “Instant messaging” is meant to be instant. Messages are shorter, with frequent interruptions from interlocutors and little or no emphasis on grammar or propriety. In these ways, these new forms of ‘written’ communication are much closer to conversation than they are to letters or essays. Therefore it is not surprising that the slang and abbreviations used in digital communication seep into spoken conversation. The colloquial nature of chatting, texting and gaming lends itself easily to adoption into voiced communication.

Acronyms are a fairly common occurrence in everyday American English. We have the NRA, SCUBA, NBA, USA, D.C., TV, USDA, and NASA, and we talk about the JFK assassination. At BYU (another acronym) we have the HFAC, the SWKT, and the HBLL (sometimes pronounced as “Hubble”). All of these are commonly used in spoken English. With such similar qualities linguistically, it is not surprising that the acronyms used in chatspeak cross over into voiced conversation as well. As Americans, we are used to shortening a common phrase or organization name to just the first letters; chatters, texters, and gamers all do the same. Rather than type or say “be right back,” they shorten it to “brb.” The same goes for “away from keyboard” (afk), “Oh my gosh” (omg), “laugh out loud” (lol), and many more commonly-occurring phrases. The shortening of phrases is habitual for Americans, and once a standard acronym is established there is little trouble deciphering its meaning for those who are accustomed to its use.

Looking at the list of acronyms given above, you might notice that there are different kinds of acronyms. NRA, for example, is different from NASA; each letter of the first is pronounced (“en-are-ay”) while the second is pronounced as a word unit (“nassa” rather than “en-ay-ess-ay”). This has simply to do with the vowel structure of English words. English speakers do not like having strings of vowels or strings of consonants together in their words. “NRA” does not have a vowel sound in between the first two consonants, and “nr” is not a consonant cluster English speakers are accustomed to pronouncing; NASA, on the other hand, has a vowel sound placed neatly between the two consonants and so it can be pronounced like a normal English words. In the chatspeak realm, the same general rules apply – strings of vowels (or consonants) are not easy to pronounce, and so where the vowel structure of the acronym is unpleasant, the letters themselves are pronounced. “BRB,” for example, has no vowels in it, so it is pronounced as “bee are bee.” There are a few chatspeak forms that are pronounced similar to NASA – as whole word units. “LOL” (laughing out loud) can be pronounced as an acronym – each letter being pronounced, sounding like “ell-oh-ell” – or it can be pronounced as a word unit, sounding like “lawl” or “lull” depending on the speaker. “ILY” (I love you) is often pronounced as a word as well, sounding like “illy” (rhyming with “lily”). The vowel structure of these forms is much closer to that of actual English words, so they are more easily converted into word forms when spoken. The term “Rofl” (rolling on the floor laughing) has a vowel in between the /r/ and the /f/, and is commonly pronounced “rawful” (rhyming with “awful”), with a shwa sound being inserted between the /f/ and the /l/. The word “pwn” has now vowels in it, but is pronounced similarly to “SWKT” from BYU lingo – a vowel is inserted. Since /w/ is a glide or semi-vowel, it provides an ideal place for an inserted vowel to be placed, either before or after the /w/. Therefore, pwn is pronounced “pown” (rhyming with “own”) and SWKT is pronounced “Swicket.”

Examples of Chatspeak in Conversational English
While all of the chatspeak terms listed in Table 1 are heard in spoken conversation, some are much more common than others; these tend to be the same terms that are used more often in chatting, texting, and gaming, as well. Lol, brb, jk, wtf, for the win, woot, and omg seem to be the phrases or words originating chatspeak that have made their way farthest into spoken English. Below are some examples of conversation excerpts in which chatspeak is used, with brief introductory explanations of context.

Speakers A and B, roommates: in the middle of a conversation, mail truck is heard. B is expecting an important letter.

A: (as B turns to leave the room) “Where are you going?”
B: “I’ll brb – I’m gonna go check the mail.”

Speakers A (male) and B (female) are talking at a party at B’s apartment. A makes a lame joke trying to impress B, and B isn’t amused.

A: (lame joke) ha. ha. um...
B (stares blankly, smiling politely)
A: “Jk. Lol...?” (cheesy smile)

Speaker A is upset about something and is complaining to her roommate, B.

A: “OMG. It was ridiculous! I mean, I was just standing there like, ‘wtf?!’ (gestures angrily with hands, indicating frustration). What on earth was he thinking?!”

Student, upon getting a paper back and seeing that they got a good grade, exclaims in excitement:

“Woot! (punches air with fist) Ninety-five per cent!”

Roommates A and B are playing a soccer video game. A is about to score a goal that will win him the game. As he shoots:

A: “Woohoo! For the win!!”
B: “Aw, man. Seriously?!”

After pulling a prank on friends that went really well, A reports it as:

“Win. Epically. Open Facebook accounts for the win. And high five to Jon for helping.”

These are just a few of the many examples I have overheard of chatspeak being used in conversational English on a daily basis. Among groups where gaming or texting are very frequent occurrences, the use of chatspeak in vocal conversation is higher; in groups where gaming or texting are less frequent pastimes of the interlocutors, the use of chatspeak slang significantly decreases.

An interesting phenomenon I witnessed in my research of chatspeak was the way that it spreads. Those who use chatspeak most in its original plane – online or via texting – tend to use it most in their spoken conversation. However, those who have friends who use chatspeak in spoken conversation tend to pick up on the slang as well, even if they do not use it otherwise. This observation has led me to believe that chatspeak spreads like other slang has in the past – a group of prestige speakers use the lingo first, and it spreads to their friends, and then to their friends. These ‘secondary users’ of chatspeak are a growing population. One student, when asked about her use of chatspeak, stated that, although she doesn’t play online interactive games, her fiancé does, and she has picked up the slang from him. Others have attested to similar experiences of using chatspeak slang simply because “my friends use it all the time.”

Conclusion
With the increasing use of Internet chat services, SMS messaging, and online interactive games, chatspeak is being used by more and more people each day. Chatspeak lingo has crossed over from strictly being used through Internet and cell phone connections to being used in everyday conversation, and is rapidly spreading to secondary users. The new linguistic genre created on a basis of shorthand, acronyms, and slang is perfectly suited for the teenagers of a fast-paced society such as our own. The terminology and way of speaking used by speakers of chatspeak may seem confusing or overwhelming to those outside the reaches of its influence. But to those who use it most, the “lol”s, “pwn”s, and “omg”s are as comfortable and commonplace as “Groovy”, “hip”, and “chill” were to their parents.

Frame Story

I found another short story intro that I wrote a while back, probably in my senior year of high school. This is a frame story (like Canterbury Tales) that I had to write for a class assignment. As always, feedback is more than welcome!


Untitled as of yet

In a run-down train station in the backwaters of a London suburb, five people sat waiting. The rest of the station was empty, just as one would expect at three in the morning. Sitting in cheap plastic seats, the would-be passengers were as varied as the station was filthy. We were all waiting for our train, which was delayed, of course. It seems London trains are always late. From behind my book, I sat watching them, as I was apt to do in situations such as this. I enjoy people-watching. No matter where you go, what time it is, or whom you are with, you will always learn something from observing those around you.
And so I sat and watched.


There was a businessman there, waiting. His suit was slightly wrinkled, his hair a little disheveled. A gold ring on his left hand told me the fellow was married – probably on his way home to wife and kids after a long business trip. His briefcase was battered from use, his laptop outdated. Obviously exhausted, he kept nodding off, only to jolt awake a minute or two later. My years of observing told me that this man was a hard-working man. Dedicated workers have this keen look about their eyes, even when they’re as wearied and fatigued as this man was.

There was nothing else of interest in this man’s appearance, and I could not glean any more information from him whilst he was asleep, so I wished him good dreams, and my attention shifted to the pair next to him.


A young mother and her toddler were sitting just a few seats away from the weary businessman. The mother looked to be about twenty or twenty-one years old, with dark tresses pulled hastily back into a single long braid. She wore ragged jeans and an oversized sweatshirt. In conjunction with her wardrobe, mascara smears made her look utterly fatigued. No ring on her finger belied a husband, and so I assumed her to be single. A small duffle bag lay at her feet, very possibly holding all her worldly possessions. Every so often she would stifle a yawn, and occasionally murmur some quiet words to the child on her lap. Both her exhaustion and her attachment to her little boy were obvious. She was every bit the picture of a haggard, young single mother.

Her child was in her lap, his thumb in his mouth. Like his mother’s, the clothes adorning his small frame were obviously second-hand. A ragged blanket was clutched in his hand, seemingly the only the treasure the boy had ever known. As he shifted, the battered baseball cap on his head slid off, revealing a stark difference between mother and child. Though their general appearances were similar, the mother’s dark hair was contrasted by her child’s red-orange mop. While most children would have slept restlessly or even screamed, this red-haired boy was peaceful. It seemed to me that this early-morning train station scenario was familiar to him. I wondered what might have brought the boy and his mother to this wretched station at so ungodly an hour. Possibly nothing more than needing to catch an early train; possibly no less than a horrible domestic situation. They both looked so sweet, the little boy now asleep, I hoped the situation was nothing so horrible as my imagination would allow me to think.

I silently wished the both of them well, and once again shifted my attention.


Next to the rag-tag family pair was a middle-aged man, the exact antithesis of his neighbors. He wore a button-front shirt under a suit coat, with square, horn-rimmed glasses. The combination of his attire, upright posture, and gray-speckled hair instantly gave away his vocation: he was a professor, probably of science, and likely representing Oxford University. Yes, I saw it now – an old leather satchel emblazoned with the Oxford insignia. No doubt he was en route to one convention or another. Despite the early hour and run-down station, the professor was alert and clean-pressed, engrossed in a dog-eared copy of the World Astronomical Society Journal. Aha, thought I, another clue as to the man’s character. An astronomer, then, or an astrophysicist. They were always snooty, astronomers were, at least in my limited experience. Always had their heads in the clouds, if you’ll pardon the jest. This one seemed to be no exception. As the small child awoke and began to fuss a bit, the professor looked down his long nose at him, got up, and moved to a seat across the deserted room. The young mother muttered an apology as she tried to quiet her fretting child, and soon enough, all was quiet once more.


The fifth and final person in the room was also the most intriguing. Baggy pants, a filthy threadbare shirt, and an equally filthy skullcap pulled over a greasy mop of tangled hair made this man’s fortune clear: he was a beggar, a bum. His pinched, hungry-looking face made his dark eyes seem sunken, like black holes in his skull. I amusedly thought that perhaps the professor would like to have a look at this poor man’s eyes, to see what kind of universe existed there. But no, the pretentious professor would never condescend to examine a vegabond. The beggar sat in a corner, off away from everyone else. Clearly he knew his social standing and had accepted it, was used to it. He, like I, sat watching the others, probably realizing more than they did just how much they had.

It surprised me, at first, that, of all the people in the room, the one I felt most similar to was the beggar. There just seemed to be something about him that I connected with, a certain quality he possessed that none of the others had.



My watching had made its rounds; there was no one else left to observe. And so my attention returned once more to my ever-constant companion of a book.

Short Story version of The Legend

I found a short-story version of my Prologue that I wrote a while ago. I'm considering submitting it for consideration at Leading Edge, a SciFi/Fantasy journal at BYU. Please let me know what you think!


The Treasured Star

The fame of the Theudal Mountains has whispered its way into every corner of Amira. Every child, no matter how young or how poor, has heard the legends that originated there. Perhaps the fact that the Theudal Mountains are on the fringes of the war-torn country of Amira helped to foster the legends. Or perhaps the ancient lore is simply a creation of fancy. Whatever the case, the stories about the Mountains are single to the region. Some of the tales often told around the fire in a local bard’s shanty are only believed in the zeal of youth, spurned by the majority of adults. Others are long-held beliefs of every Amirian, passed from generation to generation by venerable storytellers in every hall and hovel across the country. Many legends immortalize great warriors and heroes of ages gone by. More often than not, these are stories of brave men fighting dragons, famed captains who helped fend off invaders endeavoring to harass a crippled country grappling with anarchy, or unflagging explorers who traveled to the haunted mountain passes to face the Demon Lord himself.

Of all the legends of the north – the legends that are most fantastical – one legend refuses to be dispelled. Children of all ages sit at the feet of the traveling bard to listen closely to every tale he tells, a diligent audience to the accounts of their forefathers, each dawdling the whole of the day to hear one legend in particular, one story which leaves them all captivated – the legend of the Treasured Star. Sometimes the tale is told as an exhortation against greed, sometimes as a lament for days gone by. Some claim the legend to be no more than an obstinate creation of fantasy, dreamed up long ago and passed on as mere amusement. But whenever the legend is told, a hush falls over the restless audience members, every countenance lights with excitement, and even the most ostensibly critical townsfolk, who chastise the children for such negligence as putting off chores to listen to an old man’s worthless drivel, creep in among the falling shadows in the doorway of the old fabler’s humble home to hear the legend told anew.


Only then – when the sun has set and the moon is just beginning to rise above the mountain peaks, when the creatures of the night abandon their hidden alcoves and the smoke from the dying fire drifts upward towards the stars – only then does the old storyteller sit back in his chair, his eyes closed in remembrance. A smile spreads slowly across his weathered face, adding to the wrinkles etched around his ancient eyes. Memories of times long since past fill his thoughts, and the interlude from the recounting of lore stretches on forever in the minds of his captivated audience. The fire, only embers now, casts eerie shadows, deepening the lines on the old man’s face. The humble tenement of the storyteller is filled to capacity, with children and parents alike listening in awe to the tales of the north. They know the legend of the Star is not far off, and anticipation thrills through the thick, smoky air. The creaking of the floorboards and the low hissing of the embers are the only sounds in the room. The excitement is almost tangible.
The old storyteller seems lost in his reminiscence. Without opening his eyes, the old man quietly begins the legend.

“Long ago, before the mighty Narthazell forest was a single sapling, Amira was ruled by one man. Galdred was a mighty man, a kind king who loved his people and served them well. In return, the people loved and served him willingly. The people were free; no unjust taxes or corrupt magistrates oppressed the citizens. There were no wars waged or revolutions suppressed. Galdred’s reign was a time of continual peace throughout Amira.

“Galdred had in his charge many wise diviners and astrologers who told him of what was to come. Their advice never failed him, and he trusted in their word absolutely. These astrologers came before him one day, appearing quite troubled.
“‘My lord,’ the first astrologer said sadly. ‘There is trouble in the heavens. The stars and planets are not following their prescribed courses across the sky. We fear these changes carry a warning.’

“The second astrologer continued, ‘You see, my liege, often when there is a change in the heavens, there is a great change in the land as well. We fear the celestial alterations we have witnessed foretell a terrible war, sire.’

“Galdred was worried. His astrologers had never been wrong in times past, nor had they ever foreseen an event so catastrophic. Galdred asked, ‘What shall be given as a sign? There is always a sign, is there not?’

“The astrologers hesitated, exchanging troubled glances. Though neither wanted to admit the answer to the king’s query, Galdred’s kind words prompted them on. ‘We do not know what the sign shall be, Majesty. The heavens will not reveal this to us. We suppose that there shall be a strange event in the land, something that will be whispered throughout all Amira. This shall be the sign, we believe, but we do not know what it is, exactly, nor when it shall come.’

“Galdred was outraged. Trust worn thin by years of working in political circles, the once-benevolent king swore by heaven and earth to learn the secrets of the universe that the astrologers’ inferior divination could not teach him. In his obstinate fury and his current state of delirium he could not see the futility of his endeavor. Though he had once been a good and a kind ruler, he believed himself to be superior to those he ruled – superior enough, he believed, to know the intricacies of the cosmos, secrets that no other man knew or possibly could know. Galdred feared that his men did know something of the sign, and that they would not reveal it to him because they wanted to see him dethroned. Paranoia seized him; he suspected betrayal, deceit. His reason, emaciated by fear and mistrust, left him altogether, his benevolence relinquishing its hold on his discernment and leaving room for invidious passions which were hitherto unknown to him. He became obsessed with the impending sign and his obsession drove him mad.

“The elusive sign continued to rankle the half-crazed king. He found his imperial duties irksome and refused to converse with anyone, thus alienating an entire nation whom he had once ardently cared for. The disconsolate monarch devoted reverential care to amassing a veritable army of astrologers, seers, and diviners in hopes of deriving the obstinate omen, while he ignored many pleas on behalf of the people, who were now afflicted with every debilitating adversity and subjected to abject penury, in deepest need of succor from their king.

“The people were torn. Some worried about their once-docile ruler and what had become of him. Many magistrates debated the issue, adducing the king’s great stress and incessant exertion on their behalf as probable causes for his apparent insanity. They fervently believed Galdred to be a good man, driven to extremes by his love for his country and his people; they insisted that his craze for power, if indeed it existed, was secondary. Optimists held that his dementia was transitory and would eventually dissipate. Other subjects to Galdred’s reign of tyranny protested that his madness was not transient, that his lust for power would never be quenched, and were averse to his remaining on the throne when he was obviously lacking control of his faculties.

“Years passed in this manner, with the masses under the oppressive rule of a madman. The people feared their leader, quivering in dread at the mention of his derangement, fearing lest they should somehow invoke his wrath with a wayward muttering or a sidelong glance at one of his equally deranged officials. They lived in caution, watching that their speech could not be taken to mean disrespect to Galdred in any way. Galdred had devised a skewed system of legislature, with his hired officials – men whose sustenance depended on their collecting the abhorred taxes levied on the impoverished people – as a main constituent, causing his subjects to resort to filching and bartering simply to obtain enough to sustain themselves and their families. The enticement of their neighbor’s relative wealth was too much for many to bear, and newfound latitude of action seemed permissible, as even the vicars and priests had given up their godly ways to survive.

“The grandeur of a once-great nation was lost. One man’s greed and obsession had effectively obliterated the noble character of Amira. He had led the nation to a precipice over which he had unwittingly pushed them to their deaths; the damage was irrevocable. The mortification of the deeds Galdred had performed would have tempted any sane man, were he guilty of such crimes, to rush to the nearest promontory overlooking the ocean and take a flying leap. But Galdred was not a sane man.

“More than two decades had passed from the day of the fateful premonition. No sign had been seen, no war had been waged, and yet Amira was in shambles. The people had long since given up hope of escape from this ordeal except by Galdred’s death. Talk of rebellion had whispered through the land, but few were brave enough to challenge a demoniac monarch who had an army of devoted followers. The people were despairing.

"And then it happened; the long-awaited sign came.

“On the outskirts of the country, something strange happened. There had been a bright flash of light, reaching across the sky. The night sky appeared as bright as noon. There was a streak of green light, headed for the Theudal Mountains. And then all was dark. Even the stars had appeared to vanish from the sky; there was no moon. The green-glowing thing landed, striking the mountains and sending a ripple of ice spreading slowly across the countryside. Winter seemed to be coming early.

“Galdred at once called his finest astronomers to him. He demanded to know what had happened, what explanation they could give. Incredulous, they told him that the constellation Evander the Archer had changed. The point star, the arrow that the mighty hunter had been shooting, was no longer there. The astronomers supposed that the bright flash and ensuing streak of green light was Evander shooting his arrow at Amira. They believed they knew where it could be found, and they began to describe the scene wherein Galdred could find the star.

“Galdred had set out at once to find this fallen star, taking it to be his long-awaited sign. He took with him a small appendage of his guard, as he always did. If he could just get hold of that star he knew, instinctively, the power that it held, a power that could be his.

“He never found the star. He had forgotten the warning that came with the sign, that a great revolution would come as well. As Galdred was rushing to Theudal, pandemonium broke loose. An enormous civil war rained down upon the land. A riotous band of renegade men from various regions of Amira, deeply hating the man their king had become, crossed paths with Galdred and his guard. In that instant, the obsessed tyrant realized his own dissoluble state. Seeing he was loathed and outnumbered, Galdred fled his attackers. As he tried to escape, Galdred was slain. Amira was granted repose from his reign of terror. No dirge was sung on his behalf, no week of mourning declared as is the custom for the death of a king. Amira was free at last.”


The old storyteller, his voice gravelly from hours of speaking, pauses at this point in his narrative to sip water from the flask at his waist. Caught up in the tale, Atrianna is surprised to look around her and see, not the dark trees of the Theudal Forests, but the crude wooden walls of the storyteller’s hut and the rough plank flooring on which she is seated. She sees a child slumbering in his mother’s arms, blissfully unaware of the dark tale that is his country’s past. Atrianna knows there are only a few words left in this tale, but they are the few that send chills down her spine, and so she awaits them anxiously. The old man, the water having slaked his parched throat, continues in a hushed whisper, as if trying to convey a secret without anyone’s overhearing. He leans forward, grinning as he delivers the last lines to his enchanted audience.

“From there, the tale is as different as the people who tell it. Time has washed the details into a confused blur of opinion and speculation. Some believe there never was a Star, though there are many records of seeing the bright green flash across the sky. Those skeptics maintain that the whole legend was conjured up as a ruse to dethrone a demented king. Such cynics, however, are few and far between. Others speculate that Galdred was never killed, that he lives on, still searching for the Star. Yet others claim that the Star was found by another, and hidden away. Many believe that the Star is still buried deep within the mountains, waiting to be found by one worthy of its power. Most Amirians believe the legend, believe that the Star is still out there, waiting to be found. All it takes is a believing mind and a pure heart, and, if you are lucky, you might find the Treasured Star.”

Atrianna could feel the goose flesh crawling up her arms. No matter how many times she heard the Legend, the ending was always so thrilling. She arose from the wood floor and stretched her legs. As others around her were beginning to do the same, she could see how crowded the hut had become; it seemed as if all of Dörset had maneuvered their way into the tiny space, even the skeptics. Atrianna smiled. No one could resist the old man’s stories, no matter how many times they called him a crazy old loon.

Through her smile, she stifled a yawn. It really was getting late. She made her way out the door, headed for home and bed. As she crossed the small town square, she looked up at the clear night sky. The crescent moon was just beginning to set over the highest peaks in the west, and the stars were brilliant tonight as always. She said good night to her papa, giving him a kiss on the cheek, and climbed into bed thinking of the Legends she had heard today. As sleep overcame her, she felt a chill breeze and thought she saw a green glow in the sky. She rolled over, pulling the covers tighter about her ears, and drifted to sleep, dreaming of the Treasured Star.

Dream Sequence #1

This dream scene comes before the "Sneak Peek" chapter. But it doesn't come directly after the chapter entitled "Dreams" on the Earth's Eye blog. Have I confused you yet? Anyways, just know that this comes before Sneak Peek. As always, comments are welcome. Enjoy.

That night, another dream came to Atrianna while she slept.
They were running. From something or someone, she wasn't sure which. All she could hear was her heart pounding, her jagged breath so loud in her own ears. All she could feel was the adrenaline pumping, her feet stumbling in haste over the uneven ground. Wherever she turned, all she could see was trees. The forest seemed eternal. In the way of dreams, her surroundings were a blur, but a vaguely familiar blur. Ercon ran beside her, the fear etched on his face mirroring what Atrianna could feel on her own features. Suddenly, the forest ended and they were running across the frozen surface of a lake. A nearly-full moon lit the open expanse dimly. Again, some feeling of familiarity nagged at the back of Atrianna's mind, but the adrenaline overpowered every other thought. Ercon, slightly ahead of her now, headed toward a cabin across the lake, seeking refuge. Atrianna started to follow, her feet seeming to move without any input from her, but something felt both very familiar and very wrong about the building. She called out to her friend, quiet but urgent.
"No," she said, without ever having consciously formed any words. Ercon stopped. "Not in there. Come this way." The words seemed not to be her own. Then, again, her feet moved as if possessed. Her feet led herself and Ercon off to the right of the cabin, back into the pitch forest. The darkness of the covered trail closed in around them.

Atrianna awoke with a start. Never before had she had such a vivid dream. Though she was safe in her bed at home, her heart was pounding and beads of cold sweat ran down her forehead. The dream had felt so real, as if she really had been running for her life. Yet the fear was not what stuck most in her mind - it was the fact that she had known where to go, what to do, without knowing.
She took a deep breath to calm herself, and noticed a green glow starting to fill the dark room. Looking down, she realized the glow was coming from the leatherskin pouch hanging around her neck. Curious, she pulled the small round oddity out and was surprised to find it brighter and warmer than ever before.

Sneak Peek!

Here's a sneak peek for any of you who actually look at both my blogs. This is a scene that I had written for Earth's Eye, but I haven't built up to it quite yet. I was flipping through my loose writing and found it, and thought I'd post it for some feedback. Hope you enjoy.

They had to leave. Now. They weren’t safe anymore. They knew they were being watched, followed, and they had to get out of Dörset as fast as possible. Atrianna grabbed what she needed and threw it in her leatherskin pouch. The star was still around her neck, she could feel it’s weight, but she had to check again to assure herself it was really there. So many things had been illusions lately, she felt she couldn’t even trust her own senses. She quickly crossed the hall, careful not to make a sound, and headed for the door. Through the window the moon - almost full now - was sending wan bars of light across the dirt floor, the waxing moon the brightest light in the otherwise dark sky, yet still not bright enough to see clearly by. Stars spattered the sky, but seemed not to give much light tonight. With a last look at the familiar setting of her home, Atrianna slipped through the door and edged her way down the lane to where Ercon was waiting. The thick darkness made her senses sharper. Every shadow made her jump; every noise was a pursuer in her ears.
“You have the Star?” Ercon’s voice was hardly a whisper, yet both could hear the quiver of fear run through his few words. Atrianna held up the necklace for him to see for himself. “Good. Let’s go. I have an idea of where we can hide, if we need to.”
They started down the winding path towards Widow’s Lake. The forest seemed especially dark tonight, which was both a blessing and a curse. The darkness would hopefully hide them from their pursuers, but it would also hide their pursuers from them. Shadows flickered at the edges of their vision; noises seemed louder and nearer than normal; their own breathing sounded too loud in their ears. The slight glow of the star from beneath Atrianna’s tunic was hardly more than a firefly’s glow, but it seemed too bright. Everything was too much – too loud, too close, too vague, too bright, too dark. The forest was a dark blur on either side of her, stretching on forever without end. With a start, Atrianna realized where Ercon was taking her – the old abandoned cabin. The Widow’s haunted cabin. She had laughed just yesterday at the childish fear of a cabin being haunted; now, here in the dark, being followed by unknown men, she understood. She understood what could make an empty building more terrifying than the dark forest. She wanted to protest, to tell Ercon to find somewhere else to hide, but she was afraid to make even the smallest noise in the silence of the forest around them. And she knew they had nowhere else to go. So she followed.
They had reached the lake’s shore by now. Moonlight shone bright on the ice, the almost-full moon low in the sky. A stab of familiarity itched at the back of Atrianna's mind, but she couldn't place it. Ercon paused, uncertain which way to go. The fastest way to anywhere was to cut straight across the lake. But the lake was thawing; the ice wouldn’t hold them both for long. Frustration and indecision battled against calm for control of Ercon’s face, and calm was quickly losing. Behind them they heard a rustling, and that won the battle of indecision for Ercon. He quickly stepped out onto the lake’s icy surface. Atrianna stood, hesitating, on the shore. Ercon reached out his hand to encourage her on. She shook her head. “It won’t hold,” she whispered. The rustling was getting closer, but Atrianna was frozen on the shore. She knew the ice was thinnest in the middle, right where Ercon was headed; she also knew they were most likely being followed, and that their pursuers were getting closer by the second. Closing her eyes and praying to some higher power that they would somehow survive, she stepped onto the thinning ice. The rustling got closer. With every step she anticipated the solid crack that signaled the ice’s protest to their weight. They seemed to move too slowly for Atrianna’s pounding heart, but both were afraid to break the fragile surface of the lake.
“Avoid the middle,” she whispered frantically to Ercon. But he wasn’t listening. He was headed straight for the center of the lake, right where the ice was thinnest. Atrianna could see from where she was that the ice would not hold them; they had pushed their luck as far as it would go, and now they were going to die. They were going to fall through the ice and freeze to death. Atrianna closed her eyes and prayed that death would come quickly. Then she followed her friend, crazy as he seemed, towards the center of Widow’s Lake.
Then Ercon turned off to the right, veering ever so slightly away from the center of the lake. She could see now that she had been right before; he was heading straight for the cabin. She was still running, following her friend, her feet seeming to move without her putting any effort behind the movements. Adrenaline rushed through her, overpowering any other thought. The cabin was almost in sight now. Something nagged at Atrianna's mind, something familiar.
“No,” she said, never having consciously formed any words. Ercon stopped, uncertain. “Not in there,” she continued. “Come this way.”Again, her feet moved as if possessed. Her feet led herself and Ercon off to the right of the cabin, back into the forest. The darkness of the covered trail swallowed them, yet somehow Atrianna's feet found a path through the underbrush.

Auditory Cheesecake?

This is my Opinion Editorial that I wrote for my English class.

I'll say it up front – I am a music nerd and a band geek. And I'm okay with that. I have taken a combined total of over 20 years of music lessons, and I'm only 17 years old. Music plays a central part in my life and I have always valued that. In general, I am not an outspoken person, but when it comes to music I have to say my part in its defense. Music is important. It is not useless “fluff.” In fact, music has been proven to make you smarter.
Music seems to be depreciating in value in our world today. Many people take music for granted – you push a button and it's there, no questions, no waiting. Music is on the radio, on TV, in the movies, on our computers, and for some of us it is constantly plugged into our ears, as well. Yet with this constant consumption of music, people do not seem to appreciate its value anymore. Music does not only have worth as entertainment; it is a skill that, if mastered even a little bit, can be culturally-, creatively-, and even academically-enlarging.
While there are many ardent supporters of music and its importance, there are plenty of nay-sayers as well. Cognitive psychologist Stephen Pinker said, “Music is auditory cheesecake. It just happens to tickle several important parts of the brain in a highly pleasurable way, as cheesecake tickles the palate.” Pinker and others think that music exists purely for the pleasure it affords, and for nothing else. Considering the cultural, creative, and academic advantages of music, however, I must agree with neuroscientist Daniel Levitin's rebuttal to Pinker's claim. “All the available evidence is that music can't be merely auditory cheesecake,” Levitin states. He cites historical evidence that suggests that music actually pre-dates language among humans. In fact, music is perhaps what led to the development of language and human civilization.
Music has always been a part of our culture. All the major events in life tend to have music entwined in the commemoration – singing “Happy Birthday”, a wedding march, a funeral dirge. Spiritual hymns, silly songs, and fully-orchestrated masterpieces all have their place and value in human culture. Daniel Levitin said, “As a tool for arousing feelings and emotions, music is better than language.” Music expresses what words may not be able to say; it is a form of communication so poignant that it can bring tears to the eyes of listeners. Could you imagine a people that doesn't have music of any sort? It seems such a people would be lacking in something that makes each of us human. Such a culture would seem alien to us, who are continuously surrounded by music. With this constant exposure to music, we need to remember not to take it for granted. We need to remember its integral part in human culture. If we dismiss the value of music, we are dismissing the value of our culture. If we lose our appreciation of music, we lose our appreciation of our culture, too.
But music has more meaning than a cultural awareness exercise. Music encourages creativity and abstract thinking. It requires listeners and composers alike to “think outside the box” in order to interpret the piece being played or written. Composing or even simply listening to music requires that you find different pieces and parts within the music and put them together to make a cohesive whole. The same coalescing skill is required in many forms of art, whether it be visual, performing, or written art. Abstract thinking is also useful in mathematics, science, design, writing, and so many other fields as well.
The creative process that goes into composing or analyzing (ie: listening to) music utilizes multiple faculties of the brain simultaneously, creating new connections and strengthening the ones that already existed. What this means is that what we learn – in any setting – “sticks” better in the brain because our musical experience is exercising the brain. Research has shown that music lessons improve memory and IQ scores. Most people have heard of the “Mozart effect,” which claims that listening to Mozart's compositions will help to boost your IQ. This turns out to be a general effect of any musical activity, no matter the composer. Brain-imaging studies have shown that music activates almost every region of the brain, using more brain areas than any activity involving language alone. Whenever you hear a sound, the sound waves travel from your ear to the auditory centers of the brain where they are processed, partially involving the reasoning centers of the brain as well. That same process happens no matter whether you hear a horn honking, a dog barking, a person talking, or a phone ringing. However, when your brain hears music, it goes into overdrive. Primal brain regions (responsible for controlling the timing of your heartbeat, breathing, and movements) kick in to keep time with the music. Reward centers activate, bringing the pleasure of the sounds. Music with lyrics switches on the language centers to translate what is being sung. A familiar song heard again brings in the memory circuits, allowing you to remember and anticipate what comes next. This flood of brain activity strengthens your mental acuity by working the brain harder than almost any other activity.
The point of that neuro-nerd explanation is that music gets inside your head and works the “muscles” of the brain. Like any other muscle in the body, if the brain doesn't exercise and keep getting worked, it loses its “strength,” its ability to think as quickly and as abstractly. What music does in the brain, on a less technical level, is make more pathways available for learning new material. My point is this: music makes you smarter. Research has proven it time and time again.
It is not only classical music that makes you smarter. Don't worry, you don't all have to listen to Rachmaninoff to boost your IQ. And not everyone would want to. I understand that not everyone likes the same kind of music, nor can everyone learn to play a plethora of instruments. Some people like rap, some like country; some prefer jazz, some classical. There are people that play every instrument imaginable and some that can't tell a staff from a whole note. Music taste and talent vary. That is part of what makes our musical culture so wonderful; there is something for everyone. It is this diversity that needs to be treasured. Music, with all of its side-effects, is very beneficial; but it also needs to be valued for its own merits.

Character Models

I'm trying to get mental images of all my major characters. Mind, I'm not compiling a "cast list" or anything like that. All I'm trying to do is visualize my characters more clearly. Unfortunately, I have the image links on my other blog. If interested, here is a link to see them. Simply scroll to the bottom of the main page, where you will see lists (the first one is "Ercon Eligibles"). Go to http://earthseye.blogspot.com Thanks. Sorry for the inconvenience!!

Another look at my Antagonist

Here's a bit of clarification/elaboration on the previous preview to the antagonist. Again, this was originally just meant for me (and my friend I used as a sounding board) so it might not all make perfect sense. As always, feedback is welcome.


Just to clarify a few things (I tend to think it all out in my head, and then only tell you part, so it doesn't make sense to you). When I said "feline" I meant tiger/lion type feline, not tame housecat. Definitely not feminine-type feline, but the dangerous hunter-cat type. Malacant really, truly does want the reunification of Amria. I haven't thought out his entire back-story, but his family was almost definitely affected by the anarchy-ridden chaos left after Galdred's death. He has good intentions, it's just that he also wants to be put on the throne once he's unified the country. I think he could start out as a basically good guy, trying to help his country - a patriot. But after he has talked it up a bit, gotten some people to think like him, something makes him see the personal gain he could get out of this - perhaps someone tells him that with the ideas and the following he has he could be the next king, or something similar to that. And that sets him off with the selfishness. Which, of course, he justifies because he truly does want Amira to be unified and life to be better. in the beginning, he wouldn't harm anyone, just convince them or leave them be. But after a while, when he becomes more power-hungry, whenever he is rejected/opposed he becomes violent. Perhaps resulting in scenes like Idhrin's destruction??

As for Atrianna becoming like Joan of Arc... I really don't want to bring religion/gods/divine missions into this. Also, at least at first, she doesn't want to draw attention to the fact that she has the Star. It would only bring more attempts to kill her in order to get the Star. But once she has a significant following, then she would reveal it. Perhaps ... hmm. Maybe Atrianna could see a vision of Malacant destroying a city when they reject him, before he has actually gotten to that point - a premonition. Then she could start trying to convince people that he will become power-hungry. They would scoff. She would eventually move on to another person/town/city, trying to spread her warning. Only for people to not believe until it was too late. She might have a few believers along the way, but few. Then after Malacant snaps, people would believe what she had been saying all along, and begin rallying behind her!! She would not want to lead anyone, but it would start slowly, then she would wonder how she got herself into the situation where she's been voted as the leader.

My Antagonist thus far

Here is a preview at my antagonist. This is just a rough thought exercise, originally meant only for me, but I figured I'd see if I could get some feedback on it. So here it is in blog form. Sorry, some of the examples I used might not make sense to everyone, but, again, this was originally meant just for me.

Malacant (name subject to change) is raising forces to “reunite” Amira. He is a revolutionary of sorts. He has been traveling, and spreading his ideas by word of mouth, trying to find recruits. He uses flattery and deceit to win followers. He says that he will end the anarchy, bring peace to Amira, and better the lives of the people if they will follow him. Wait, if there is no ruler, why does he need an army behind him? Maybe he's just recruiting disciples. Yes, he wants a large body of supportive followers before he tries to take the throne. But how do you unite a nation??? There is no evil king to overthrow, there is no real government to oppose. He would have to simply gather supporters. Perhaps there is a loosely-governing body, someone/thing that the people generally look to. I mean, total anarchy couldn't last that long, could it? There could be a system of judges, for instance, like in the Book of Mormon, after King Benjamin. Or each city-state could be challenged by Malacant and fall. Some city-states could surrender, or (in other words) join his side. Some might defy him. But at first I think he should quietly take some smaller cities, getting most/all of the people to see things his way.

Malacant is a young-ish man, by no means old but most definitely outgrown childhood. He is slightly tall of build, muscular but not overly so. His eyes are slightly almond-shaped, (see image here). He has blue, blue eyes. Startlingly icy blue. His face is nothing out of the ordinary, if perhaps a little on the elegant side of masculinity. A square-ish jaw, strong noseline, solid cheekbones. Yet through all this there is almost a regal cast to his features. See picture of tiger (here) to see if you can mesh the two images. Both the tiger and Malacan are beautiful, blue-eyed, and dangerous. Even something about the way Malacant moves and talks reminds you of “feline.” He has a cunning wit, allowing him to see exactly what people want to hear, allowing him to twist his ideas into pleasing words. Think Korihor here. He says exactly enough to be telling the truth, but he presents it in such a way that it is in fact a deception. He tells the people that their lives will improve when Amira is whole again. No need for anarchy and fear when there could be a kind, compassionate ruler to keep the peace. He makes the people see the happy future they could have, then presents his plan as the “only” course of action to reach that. A bit of persuasion for the common good, right?
OK. So Malacant has gathered/is gathering support. Word starts to spread about him. Atrianna and Ercon have been traveling a bit, now, on the run after being followed by who-knows-what in Dörset. The star is guiding them, their own Liahona. Malacant's support is growing, and smaller city-states are beginning to see some damage when they oppose him. (He's avoiding the largest strongholds.) It is becoming obvious (at least to our heroes) that Malacant's aims are not as altruistic as they he claimed. How can she come across supporters, though???? Of course, Ercon would be by her side, and they could make friends along the way...

OK just to clarify a few things. When I said "feline" I meant tiger/lion type feline, not tame house cat. Definitely not feminine-type feline, but the dangerous hunter-cat type. Malacant really, truly does want the reunification of Amria. I haven't thought out his entire back-story, but his family was almost definitely affected by the anarchy-ridden chaos left after Galdred's death. He has good intentions, it's just that he also wants to be put on the throne once he's unified the country. I think he could start out as a basically good guy, trying to help his country - a patriot. But after he has talked it up a bit, gotten some people to think like him, something makes him see the personal gain he could get out of this - perhaps someone tells him that with the ideas and the following he has he could be the next king, or something similar to that. And that sets him off with the selfishness. Which, of course, he justifies because he truly does want Amira to be unified and life to be better. In the beginning, he wouldn't harm anyone, just convince them or leave them be. But after a while, when he becomes more power-hungry, whenever he is rejected/opposed he becomes violent. Perhaps resulting in scenes like Idhrin's destruction??

As for Atrianna becoming Joan of Arc... I really don't want to bring religion/gods/divine missions into this. Also, at least at first, she doesn't want to draw attention to the fact that she has the Star. It would only bring more attempts to kill her in order to get the Star. But once she has a significant following, then she would reveal it. Perhaps ... hmm. Maybe Atrianna could see a vision of Malacant destroying a city when they reject him, before he has actually gotten to that point - a premonition. Then she could start trying to convince people that he will become power-hungry. They would scoff. she would eventually move on to another person/town/city, trying to spread her warning. Only for people to not believe until it was too late. she might have a few believers along the way, but few. Then after Malacant snaps, people would believe what she had been saying all along, and begin rallying behind her!! She would not want to lead anyone, but it would start slowly, then she would wonder how she got herself into the situation where she's been voted as the leader.

Dorset - the setting, kind of

Dörset is a small village tucked away in the Theudal Mountains on the northern border of Amira. It is situated about 2 miles from Widow's Lake, an easy walk along a winding trail. Dörset is centered around a town square, wherein is a well and pump. There is neither inn nor boarding house in Dörset; they are so small a town and so far from travelers that whenever visitors do come, they are simply accommodated in any empty/spare rooms in townsfolk homes.

Atrianna - my protagonist

Atrianna is a village girl in her late teens. She has dark wavy hair, that falls to about the bottom of her shoulder blades. She often wears her hair in a single braid, but not always. She also wears it down loose, or with a section tied back (a half-pony, with thin braids running to the back of her head). Her face is soft, and when she laughs you can see her dimples at the corners of her mouth. She almost never blushes, but when she does, she has very good reason to (ie: greatly embarrassed or flattered, awkward situation, etc). Her nose is a bit on the smallish side, but not tiny. All in all, an average face but not plain. Her brown eyes are flecked with gold, and they sparkle when she laughs or when she's up to something. She loves adventure, and her curiosity often gets the better of her good sense. Always up for a challenge, the tedium of village life tends to bore her, even though it's all she has ever known.

Atrianna's family is small. Her father and mother (Ca'el and Meinwen) and herself make up the whole family. No grandparents or relatives in town. Ca'el came with his new bride to Dörset almost 20 years previous to the start of this story. They were fleeing the ravages of war and anarchy in the larger cities. He came from Nor-Holst, near the coast, originally. Meinwen was from a nearby town. She had been in town with her father when she met Ca'el in his father's bookshop. Meinwen loved to read, but rarely got the chance to see new books. She read the few volumes on her family's shelves countless times – The Hystorie of Amiran Civilization, Tales of Narthazell Forest, and other histories and instructional books. Seeing shelves upon shelves of new, thick books had mesmerized her. As had the golden-brown eyes of the shopkeeper's son, who had been hiding amongst the shelves and sneaking peeks at the gorgeous farmer's daughter who had wandered into his father's shop. They were married soon after. When Galdred was killed and war destroyed the peace of the country, the newlyweds fled to the seclusion of the mountains. Ca'el had always lived in a large city, and it took him a while to adjust to village life. Meinwen, however, having grown up on a farm in a small community, felt at home in Dörset. Nor-Holst was destroyed in the war; neither Meinwen nor Ca'el ever knew the fate of their parents/families.

Meinwen's mother (R'hira) was never really known. She was Galdred's daughter. When rumors of war spread, Galdred's worry for his people and his family led him to send R'hira into hiding. He sent her to the Theudal Mountains for her protection, knowing that war would touch that secluded area last. R'hira was beautiful. She appears as the Widow in Atrianna's dreams of the lake. Atrianna will later learn that the woman in her visionary dreams is in fact her grandmother, and thus she (Atrianna) is royalty. This may be brought to light by a sage or a historian, or perhaps by a vision of Atrianna's. This will refute any claims by Malacant or anyone else that she has no right to rule.

An Introduction

"This Is My Brain on the Web" is basically my place to put all of my ideas "on paper" for others to critique. I might post some school assignments eventually, but for now I just have my pre-writing stuff for my novel-in-the-works (which you can read at earthseye.blotspot.com). Keep in mind that the things posted here are not edited for spelling, grammar, or clarity; they're just my thoughts running wild.

If you have any comments, I would love to hear any that are not vulgar, profane, or idiotic (sorry to some of my friends on that last one - you can't spam me with stupid comments, ok?) This is a creative forum of sorts, so welcome!