Gifts of the People

I think everyone has a gift, a talent, a need to share themself with the world and let themself shine. For some, it is hard to meet their dreams, stealing as many years from time as they can to hone their gift, until the right moment comes and they are finally forced into making the star in theirself glimmer in the breathtaking spot light. For others, it comes differently. Some rush into it, sure of their dream from the moment they take their first breath. I'm a little like that, I suppose you might say.

As a young teenage writer, I know life has been kind to me. I have a room over my head, two supporting parents (when they aren't yelling at me because I did some wrong), ambition, and as much as I try to be modest about it, talent. I many elements in my life that make me who I am--which I haven't really figured out yet. My friends are always telling me what I am: caring, beautiful, fashionable . . . but I don't know how to believe that. Yet. I think someday, maybe someday, I just have to proove to myself that I am all those things, like I've already made them believe.

Anyways, when I was younger, I didn't have the luxury of writing like I do these days. I had music--I was singing before I could talk--and art. Creativity and imagination as a bonus. Maybe plop a romance in there that I didn't understand. I honestly thought I was going to be a famous singer like Taylor Swift someday. She was my superstar--my role model. But learning of her music is also what caused me to drift farther and farther from my at-home family, the seperation still remaining today. Not the point here. Moving on . . .

But as I said, I did have creativity and imagination, like most children. Like most of my friends, I was tagged in Talented and Gifted, and at recess we'd have live role plays where we'd love and fight bad guys. It was our life. Most of all, it was real.

Time skip, and we're in fifth grade. I've started my first book, inspired after being introduced to the realm of young adult books. I never did finish that book, but it was a good start. I can now see how that led into the development I have today.

Skip another year, and I'm being homeschooled online because I'm so smart the school couldn't keep up with me. I've started another book, having abandoned the other, and it takes me months to get 5,000 words before I finally get stuck and start another, playing with the greek gods like I'd always loved. I found the school NaNoWriMo club--a basic writer's club for anyone who wrote books. You didn't have to participate in the activity. You just had to write.

Anyways, the support of all the people in the club is what helped me finish that third book. Novella, if you wanna classify it correctly, but I'd never been so proud. 18,000 words in one book, and I was finished, already set up for sequel and gaining more skill and development with every word I wrote.

Fast forward to today, and I actually haven't finished another piece, unless you count the small novelette I did in January. But I do have good starts on every piece I have saved either on my jump drive or my computer--and I plan to finish something before the end of June. Before the end of the school year.

If there's one thing that I have learned from my journey of talent, it's that convincing the world you have talent is the easy part. Convincing yourself, and learning to stand on your own two feet is the hard part. I have myself pretty convinced--and I truthfully must say I have no doubts that I'll be published someday. That maybe one day--I'll be drinking coffee eww, no, not coffee, flavored water with Cynthia Hand and Richelle Mead getting ready for a tour or something because I'm a bestseller. Why a bestseller, when I'm supposedly so modest? It's not for the fame, I'll tell you that. It's to have touched someone's life--someone's heart--so deeply that they cried or laughed. That they felt for the characters.

Another thing: Don't deny yourself, your heart, from doing what it needs to. You'll become stronger just by leading yourself on the right path--and not letting anyone else choose for you. That's how you'll win. That's how everyone will win.

Love you <3
Cassandra Bloom, the someday bestselling author

Today I Get to Go Dancing

I love to dance. You probably didn't know that before, but it's completely true. On top of all my other crazy hobbies, dancing is there. Normally, it's just a crazy fun freestyle in my room to some pop or whatever I decide to play on my laptop, but today I get to go to the grange and have some real fun. I'm just learning how to dance more formally, when you have a male partner, since I've only gone once before, but it is lots of fun. Last time R (friend of mine) sang a song (Suds in a Bucket?) and secrets were traded. I know that first time is one I want to remember, above all the rest. :)

Moving on . . .

Writing update: I've recently gotten into one of my older stories. I abandoned it when I lost my jump-drive, as I did with every other story I had written up to that point, because that's where my newest content of it was. And though I have finally found my jump-drive, I haven't been using it as much. I decided that what I had on this unnamed story of mine, Prologue in the file for lack of better idea, that wasn't on my computer was going to crap anyways, and I went off in a different direction with the scene, perhaps the whole story, and I am so much happier with it. So happy, in fact, that I stayed up 'til midnight last night just to complete 1,000 words in an hour for it. I had a hard time closing my laptop so I could sleep enough to do my homework today ;)

In the reading world, things have been hectic. I've mostly given up on reading Phantom of the Opera for the time being, needing my precious free time for things like writing and homework, but I have been reading other things. On top of rereading some Richelle Mead content, I swallowed The Hunger Games in a single day. Sorry fans . . .

But I almost felt sorry I read it. I wished I had head my friend's warnings earlier that day, but I honestly felt it was too cruel a book. I was so put-out with the author for putting so much effort into a horribly themed book that I was almost two seconds from launching my kindle at the white walls of my bedroom. Luckily K was there to save me ^.^

K, a wonderful friend of mine, has been working really hard on one of her amazingful stories. It's incredibly funny, and I love it. I hope she doesn't mind that I'm sharing two excerpts in my blog ;)

“Roi come on—you have to come dance,” Kiki grinned, tugging on my arm.

“Kiki I’m not going to dance,” I whined.

She used her superior strength, and pulled me to my feet.

“Yes you are—come on,” she grunted, pulling me to the crowd of pulsing bodies.

“Kiki I—” I started, but she interrupted in a low hiss.

“You will dance, or you will die,” she said, before shoving me in to a tall, lanky blonde boy.

“Oof,” he grunted as I smacked in to him.

“Oh I-I’m sorry, my friend is kind of pushy...” I trailed off.

His green eyes appraised me , before he half smiled, realizing it had been a female attacking him.

“Naw its fine babe. You dance?” He asked, pointing a thumb at the crowd.

“N-no I don’t that’s sweet though, thanks...” I was preparing to back out as my cheeks flushed red, but he grabbed my waist and pulled me in to him.

“Why don’t you dance with me?” he suggested.

“Thanks but I—”

“Sorry—I’m afraid she’s spoken for this evening,” a deep gentle voice purred from behind me, his arm slipping around my waist, and tugging me free from the others grasp easily.

By the sound of his voice, the swooping save, and the way the blondes eyes bugged, I knew exactly who had come to the rescue. I allowed him to lead me away, before I hung my head.

“How much trouble am I in?” I groaned.

He chuckled, and let his lips glide up my neck to my ear.

“Which offense should we start with?” Soren asked.

“How many do I have?” I asked, shivering slightly at his words.

“Well,” he began, brushing all of my hair over to one side. “There’s the fact that you underestimated my protective abilities over you, conspired with my most devilish of sisters, snuck out in the middle of the night, while under house arrest, and tried to lull me to sleep using your most feminine of gifts, not to mention that you got out of the house looking so incredibly gorgeous, without my protection at your side,” he continued. “Should I go on?” he asked.

I rolled my eyes and turned around.

“No I think I get the general idea—” I replied, but he caught me up short.

Soren had slid in to a fresh pair of dark jeans, and a red button down, the top few left undone, to reveal a leather chord strung around his neck, a sharks tooth hanging from the center, and a slender silver chair disappearing past where the eye could see. He had tied his hair back—the way I liked it best, and I realized as my eyes were skimming him, his eyes were searching me. My cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and I tried to make it seem to be out of anger.

“How did you find out we were coming?” I asked, trying to make my voice furious, but I watched the intuition flash through his eyes as he saw through my poorly cultivated façade, with his darling half smile.

“I was listening to you in the shop,” he replied proudly.

I glared at him. He realized I was not going to answer, and bit his lip, leaning back to look me over again.

“You do look absolutely gorgeous tonight,” he said earnestly.

This made my lip twitch up in to a smile. I threw myself in to his arms happily.

“I sort of hoped you would show up. There’s really no point in going to a party if the party isn’t going to be there,” I said.

He laughed, and kissed the top of my head.

“You dance?” He asked, imitating the blondes voice.

I wrinkled my nose and pulled back.

“Ew no—I’m going to go look for my boyfriend,” I said, releasing myself from his grip.

He laughed again, and laced his fingers through mine.

“Roi—will you dance with me?” He murmured low in my ear.

Okay—at this point did I really have another option than to answer yes? He pulled me in to the thumping crowd, which was dancing to ‘Sorry for Party Rocking’ by LMFAO. I wasn’t much of a dancer on my own, and would have refused to dance had it been with anyone else, but Soren was fantastic, so he sort of inspired my more experimental side. The music switched between the hands of DJ’s, so the styles changed as well. Kiki was nowhere to be seen, which in all honesty didn’t bother me. I knew she was fine. Finally when the song ‘Kiss me’ by Sixpence None the Richer started playing, my tense muscles began to wind down. We danced, and due to Soren’s tragically romantic side, and twisted sense of humor, he took the liberty to kiss me each time the words were sang. I blushed each time, because most of the eyes were fixated on us. The weird couple consisting of ‘that girl’ and her unreasonably scary, huge, dangerous-looking, bad ass boyfriend, who held her like she was a fragile porcelain doll.
He however didn’t care about the watching eyes. When I mentioned it to him, he just shrugged and replied:

“If they don’t approve—who’s fault is that?”

~and~

I nodded, and brushed my hair over to the side, and tip toed over to see what he was cooking. It looked to be pizza. I looped my arms around his waist, and reached up higher to rest my chin on his shoulder.

“How’s it coming?” I asked.

“Just fine actually. Would you like to help?” He asked, turning his head to smile at me.

I couldn’t really have imagined a more patient teacher than Soren. I had little practice with genuine cooking, but his deep gentle voice guiding me through my mistakes made up for my embarrassment easily. Surprisingly, it also took me away from my worries.

“Like this?” I asked again, kneading the dough a little better than the time before.

He chuckled softly, and held my hands still.

“Like this,” he instructed again, pushing my palms in, and then folding it.

“Ah,” I replied, concentrating a little harder.

He watched me as I pinched and squeezed until the dough was a rough circle. I looked up as he laughed, his nose wrinkled cutely as he watched me stab the soft dough with my finger tips.

“What?” I asked, sticking my tongue out at him.

He shook his head, trying to stop laughing.

“Y-your expression there was so cute. I’m sorry that shouldn’t have been funny,” he laughed.

I punched his shoulder.

“Shut up,” I grunted, going back to making my pizza.


Soren’s of course turned out the most professional, and mine ended up being a little lumpy, and disproportionate, though I thought it was good—being my first try and all. Kiki’s was just flat out pathetic. She had eventually given up on her pizza dough, and wadded it in to a ball, smashing it on to the sheet, bathing it in sauce and cheese, and threw it in the oven slamming the door before stomping off angrily. All the while Soren couldn’t really manage to not laugh, which only made it worse.

After dinner, we went to play some cards, which went on fine until Kiki decided it was time to turn ‘crazy 8’s’ in to ‘pick up 52’ when Soren sufficiently kicked her butt.

Kiki's 8, by the way, and Soren is Roi's boyfriend in a way, if you didn't pick that up, but I love them all. Hope you enjoyed that ;)

~C~

Jumbles and Jumbles of Me

I hate being bored and full of thoughts. Therefor, here is a blogpost just to empty out all my crazy, churning thoughts that never go away and get it out in random orders and as fast as I can.

You can stop reading if you want to. I'll be darting around. You don't have to follow along with my talking where I discover myself again.

First of all, I'm tired. I'm really tired. I'm tired of being tired. I'm tired of not having enough time to write. I'm tired of waiting for a good time to talk to Bob. Tired of complaining about being tired of life. But oh well. I have to deal with it.

I want a hug. I want a hug from Bob, actually. I want to see into his soul everyday and all the time rather than a few lucky instants when he plays the Tom Toms without his coat, or wears a hat. Is that bad? A little touch makes me yank my arm back from instinct and yet I want more than that. So gentle he is...

That reminds me. I need a better name for Bob. Bob doesn't fit. Only his true name does. But I can't call him that. Not on here. So I need a better, soothing one like the one he has. I'm brainstorming. So from now on he will be known as 'Unknown' until I think of a better name. Which might take a while.

I think my favorite feature of Unknown is his eyes. Even though I avoid them and rarely get to actually see them I love them. They are the darkest brown, just melding with the black pupil at the middle, and on anyone else I'm sure they would be hard and strict, but on him (whens he regards me) they are the sweetest, most innocent eyes I've ever seen.

The beauty of them reminds me of my own. Or maybe it's because they two pairs are the only two I can imagine in my cluttered brain at any time. I don't know. I just know that they remind me of the other.

I think maybe it might be the deepness in them. The depth. The falling you feel when staring into them. I think maybe that signifies true beauty for me. The depth of someone, and their personality.

Sometimes I think about 'my type' and if I have one. It almost seems to me that I do, because B--I mean Unknown is so much like my last huge school-guy crush (this was actually pointed out to me in a dream...). Who knows.

Except Unknown is different from Jordan because Jordan was cruel to me--and only me--whereas Unknown is nice to me and only me. There's also quite a difference in looks--Unknown is way more beautiful. I'll be lucky if I catch him.

-C-

Let's call him Bob

It's been a while...


Okay, it hasn't been that long, but it HAS been more than two-three days, which is how often I'm supposed to post (the saturday story posts don't count...). So here's an update on me :)


First of all, I really like this guy at my new school. Let's call him Billy. No there's already a Billy there...Let's call him Bob instead. Anyways, I really really really really really REALLY you-get-the-point-really-really like him, I have the the GREAT urge to share this like--with the world. So please excuse my gushing. But I really like him. And I hope he never reads this blog so he nevers knows how crazy about him I am.


He sits by me in band, tuting a wonderful tune to his alto saxophone that I play too. His black hair is the most beautiful in the school--and I must admit--his hair (and him...) is as sexy as he declared to the band class a while back. Though I'm not jealous of him. I'm jealous of every girl who has the courage to admire and examine it.


I love how he treats everyone--including me. He teases everyone else, a certain laugh in his deep brown eyes that I love seeing, but he treats me with the gentlest motions, expressions, and words. It's makes me feel like I'm staring straight into his soul when he tears down his defenses and treats me this way.


YES! See, this is what I love about critical thinking, especially during blogging. Though it's just an idea, he could be nervous around me and like me too. He's always flipping his hair in my direction as if to catch a few last glances at me before we start a song or pack up to leave, though I never meet his eyes. I'm slow. If he tries to catch my eyes I don't realize it until he's looked away. Though I'm always aware of everything else he does. That I've trained myself to do. Also, he never outright stares like every other guy. Who knows.

Another supporting factor of the nervousness is that even though he teases everyone else, he has a real hard time teasing me. Even Roland, who he has a hard time teasing, is easier for him. I think it's because I'm so quiet or something or he doesn't know much about me, but whatever.

And I think I can openly say I'm in love with him. I get breathless at the mere thought of his name, (not Bob, I assure you...) which means I must be breathless 24/7 because he's always on my mind. I only hope he likes me back, which I doubt with my modesty and low self-esteme, but I'll keep you all updated.

For those of you who were bored with that post, I'm sorry, but he is now all I have to talk about minus the painful migranes from the painfully boring school I go to. (I'm obviously very lucky to have him) Deal with it.

Over-&-Out
C

P.S. I need to get writing again. Post anything you think would make for an interesting twist in the comments if you'd like. You don't have to know anything about my current story, so just have fun!

The Good News

So my family and I, since discovering my new obsession and learning that Las Vegas will no longer be showing The Phantom of the Opera at the Venetian in play format after September 2, 2012, that I may be able to go if I pay for most of the trip. It. Shall. Be. Brilliant. I am. So. Excited. And. So. Lucky. I cannot stress that enough. *squeals* Omg omg omg omg.

But I did not come on here to gush about this. *shakes self* Well, it was part of it but of course I have more.

Some of you are probably wondering how far my obsession extends in Phantom of the Opera. Well, here is a small list of things I have done in honor of my love for even just those four words, in order from the earliest things to latest:

1. I have played a POTO song in band class on my Alto Saxophone. Greatest song ever. Well, Angel of Music may beat it actually. And all the originals on the soundtrack to the movie I can actually sing to.
2. I begged my mother for the movie, and I got it. Love. It.
3. I bought the book and will soon get a spin-off sequel. Haven't read more than 5% on the first, though. I'm too busy right now. (If you were wondering, yes, that is how busy I am. I am so busy I cannot even find the time to read my next favorite book. Should I be doing that now instead of posting? No, I can't, I'm doing school).
4. I made a screen saver set for myself on my computer made from various hot snapshots from the Andrew Lloyd Webber version. LOVE it. And of course there are none of that brat Raoul. My favorite picture? At the bottom of this post :)
5. I am getting front row tickets to one of the last three plays going on in Las Vegas for Phantom. And I'm paying for three, one for me and each of my parents. PAYING MYSELF. Talented, aren't I?
6. I have now bought the soundtrack. It is amazing as well. Love each song.

Now, isn't that a lot? I'm obsessed. But it's a good thing. Good good head noise...

He just seems so gentle, and yet so strong here. And trust me, it was hard to pick a favorite.