Friday, November 29, 2013

Thanksgiving/Black Friday

Not my edit. It took me 15 minutes to hunt down a picture I thought encompassed and portrayed my kind of message.. :D

The title is self-explanatory isn't it.

Happy Thanksgiving to anyone who reads this. I hope you all had a splendid time whether it was with the comfort of food and family or either one without the other.

I myself had a very lovely day. Good food that I and several members of my family made, and discussions revolving around Doctor Who.

Thennnnnnn... Black Friday. Or rather, "Thursday." Somebody decided it was a fantastic idea to open up shop for Black Friday at 6:00PM on Thursday. Thanksgiving. As though we needed yet another thing to detract from this already stifled holiday.

Anywhooo, I went with some peeps and we shopped. In fact I just got home. It's 1:30. We shopped for roughly 7 hours. Sometimes I question myself.

Last year we started at 11:30 and got home at 4. I've no idea what was different this year. O_o
_____

I would like to say, that I am thankful for so many things... God has brought in so many new possibilities in this past year it's staggering sometimes to consider. I have a supportive family, friends, wonderful books and technology and - and - and I could go on forever. <3

Standing out in the cold waiting for maybe 6 minutes tonight (they let everyone in early) felt like forever. I am so thankful for our electricity and my wonderful bed. I have a bed. That's fantastic too.

There were some very friendly people tonight, the people assisting customers and at the registers most of the time had a smile or a friendly word despite being away from their comforts on Thanksgiving of all days.

Take a moment to be thankful for your bed, your socks, or maybe your gluten free food, or the air you breathe (depending on where you live or what you do for a living). Maybe your music or your HB pencil.

Take a moment to say thank you for whatever your special things are that cast light on the void of confusion that we are living.

~Bright

PS- Am I the only one who still gets a thrill out of the fact that Thanksgiving can be arranged to say "Giving Thanks"? I still think that's cool.

PPS- I wonder how much sense this post makes. Attempting to be somewhat more thoughtful when you're thinking about how hungry you are might not be the best combination.

PPPS- I really like these things.

PPPPS- This morning later on will be fun! I'm going shopping again!!! And I get to see what I actually bought last night since I've kinda forgotten.

PPPPPS- It's now 2:05AM.

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Sketch- Katniss (finished)


I finished my November WIP!!! Roughy 8-9 hours.

It is Katniss Everdeen from the Hunger Games. This particular piece is to celebrate Catching Fire's premiere last Friday.

I saw it Saturday. I AM AWED AND STUNNED I LOVE IT.

And of course my favorite guy FINNICK is present. To say why he's my favorite however would be giving spoilers.

Here's the unedited version-




Friday, November 22, 2013

System Failure- short story


Here is the final short story I wrote for American lit class. :)

A day late for the blog (Thursday/Friday is when I upload writing and it's Saturday) but here it is.

This is a small glimpse into a larger, more complex story I've been developing recently. Science fiction with a "modern" trend of dystopian.

System Failure

Dr. Peter Somar trudged through the bustling streets. All the laughter and chatter of the world paled in comparison to the throbbing pain in his mind. It must be a mistake. I must be a mistake. He desperately pleaded with himself. How could the system fail in such a way?

The smell of coffee brought him back to his senses. A quick scan of his wallet revealed he had enough money to purchase the whole café if he wanted. Well, he’d settle for a small cup right now.

The man at the register smiled warmly at him and asked if he’d like it with cream or non-fat milk. Gazing out the window, Peter absentmindedly answered yes for both.

He delicately grasped the cup when he took it from the man’s grasp without revealing the tremble in his fingers. With a smile and nod to the cashier he departed the café.

I have to get away. No peace and quiet here.

Home was near. But he knew what awaited him there. The computer would have sent off the results immediately. It was only an hour at the most they would grant him before he would be tracked down and required to go in for questioning.

Peter checked his watch. Seven O’clock. Twenty minutes left. A deep sigh escaped him. Ahhh might as well head back now.

They were waiting in his kitchen. A woman with copper eyes had taken the liberty to boil water and make herself a cup of tea.

“Diana.” His shoulders sagged and he leaned against the cold counter. It was black marble, the sort of stone that endures. “What are They saying?”

“Hey Peter.” The casual greeting didn’t suit her formal attire. Her eyes held a faint glow if you knew to look for it. “They are saying that you have discovered something that could compromise the safety of the city.” She paused.

Peter’s hold on his paper cup tightened.

“In fact they are saying that you are the something. You could topple this society as we know it.”

With precision Peter set his cup on the counter. A faint clack sounded. He moved forward and bent down so he was eye level with Diana.

The narrow point of a shooter from one of Diana’s guards pressed into his neck. Peter ignored it. His body began to go cold and he could feel sweat in his clenched fists.

“What. Are. They. Saying?” He ground out each word.

She leaned closer. “I can feel the fever radiating heat from your body right now. You don’t have much time. That is… unless you submit to our questioning. We can fix you. I don’t know what went wrong, but we’ll have a look at you and find out. Such an occurrence will never happen again.”

“No. You know what went wrong. Somebody altered a chip on purpose. Somebody meant for the program to go wrong. One little mistake, purposefully inserted among millions of perfect copies can undo the world.”

They stared at each other intently.

”Who did it?” A wave of nausea rolled over him. He tugged a chair out from the table and settled into it so that he was still facing Diana. “Do you know who messed with the system?” The shooter had moved away once it became obvious Peter had no intentions of harming her.

“We don’t—”

Peter interrupted. “You control the human race at the touch of thousands of buttons. You could have the whole human race except for yourselves wiped out from Black Plague in a week and then plan for Wyoming to die of measles. Don’t lie to me and tell me you don’t know.” His voice began to rise in pitch. “Who was brilliant enough to infiltrate your system and make sure that I received a faulty code in my chip?”

“We don’t know.” Her voice was firm, cold, and quiet.

“Why is it I received the bad chip? There must have been hundreds of others to pick from, there was no way to tell that I would become a doctor and capable of discovering my flaw – Capable of altering the world?”

“We don’t know. I’m sorry. But we can fix you.”

“You know I was going to turn myself in. I was going to let you take me. Who wants to live a life knowing you have a flawed code? Especially a doctor who could infect hundreds of patients in a day? But now that I think about it… How is it the perfect system can be tampered with? Maybe you’re beloved system isn’t the perfect way to do it.”

Diana stood while her chair screeched across the floor. She glared at him. “Don’t you dare suggest such a thing. You are a perfectly educated man. We went through the same tests and courses together. You know that the system is blameless. It was just a silly troublemaker who wanted to make a point!”

“A silly troublemaker wouldn’t be able to make a point in the first place. You must have a traitor in the system and you know it. Now believe it.” Peter massaged his temples. The ache in his head had spread throughout the rest of his body which was experiencing flashes of hot and cold.

“Diana, have you ever considered the possibility we were lied to? That maybe our minds are being fed misinformation?”

The look she gave him said enough.

“I’ve had enough from you Dr. Somar.” At that moment Peter knew he had ceased to exist. He was no longer Peter, her former classmate and friend. He was Dr. Somar, a threat to the city and a threat to the man she had always idolized as mankind’s savior. She nodded at the guards. Two of them helped him to his feet where he swayed.

“Get him out to the car. We’ll drive to the center where Mr. Aragewill question him.”

They injected a sedative into his neck. His last drowsy thought was of the Mercy Slayers. He would never be able to tell them what he had discovered. Peter closed his eyes.
__________

“We hide things. We steal the things the world says are the most dangerous things in the world; the things that will bring back our mortality.

Humans are supposed to die. We’re supposed to ‘get sick.’ But we don’t.

We are murdered.

We are taken away if we don’t fit in with the criteria.

But why? Why are we isolated from others? Why do our codes come across as flawed?

Is this how humanity should be controlled?

If it comes down to being forced to live this life; then we will remove our codes and never have to suffer the consequences.”
-- from the Creed of the Mercy Slayers

Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Sketch- Zentangle





These are zentangles. :D simple black marker, you draw clouds, hills, mountain etc and fill them in with patterns.

Friday, November 15, 2013

Opening Words

Copyright Peter Vanham
For one of my classes I get to write a short story. :D

I have a couple excerpts from different stories I'm considering. There's just too many possibilities!

The first one... is based in an established world already that I've created.

The second one is made up of what I have going on in my head. Numbers and stone statues.
__________________________________________________

“We hide things. We steal the things the world says are the most dangerous things in the world; the things that will bring back our mortality.

Humans are supposed to die. We’re supposed to ‘get sick.’ But we don’t.

We are murdered.” – From the Creed of the Mercy Slayers

“What about… The Stealers?” Garrett gulped down more of the tonic. “It’s got a mysterious feel to it, like the shadows.”

“But it’s so obvious.” Tuney groaned. “What do we do? We steal stuff. If the idea is to not get caught let’s not name ourselves with the crime before we commit it.”
__________________________________________________
The statue didn’t move.

Tony could’ve hugged the statue’s pedestal in relief. Then the shock of what that implied sank in.

“It’s finally over.” He took a deep breath and turned to Syrie. “Can you believe it?”

Syrie shook her head. Her voice whispered through his mind. No. But I know that it is. It’s not like last time. However you of all people know that knowing is different than actually believing…

Tony stepped over to the statue’s pedestal and slid down the still warm stone. He touched the words engraved in their neat little rows. Above the lengthy paragraph was the title: The Queen.

Tony and Syrie each studied the stone chunks scattered around them. There was a wing (from a very talkative griffin), an arm, the remains of The Queen and pieces too badly battered to discern what they had been originally.

Syrie pulled out her pen, the one that had lead for ink, and wrote on the pedestal: The 37th War. Year 2073. The Queen has fallen. Survivors Tony Derk and Syrena Tome.

We remember.

____________________________________________________

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Sketch- November WIP (update)



This is what happens when I get really into a piece...
Suddenly I'll notice I have 6 different things floating between my hands.

I bring an update on my November WIP! ^_^

Anybody have a guess as to who it is?

Farther along-ish with the hair
Lots of adjustments to the face... :)


Monday, November 11, 2013

Photography Spam for Autumn

edited in pixlr
I thought I'd show something different today just because. :)

Some photography from the past couple weeks.







Aha this was me trying to be all deep and philosophical.
Man/nature and all that. GO GREEN.
I stuck down the bag in the field and YES I picked it up!

Thursday, November 7, 2013

Death of Glory (excerpt)

Roman Gladius used in the Roman Legions
(Pinterest)
I wanted to title this post "Excerpt From My Novel The Death of Glory Which I Haven't Touched Since July" but decided that was a bit much. ^_^

I know most of you are unaware that for 2 1/2 years now I've been working on a book which in proper, writerly, terms, would be called a novella. It's based on the OYAN curriculum form. A marvelous curriculum that has changed my life first and foremost and my writing second. But to get into that of course would be enough for a post all it's own.

So any time you hear me reference my "OYAN novel" taa-daa now you know what it is. :)

The working title is "The Death of Glory." The main character is boy in his teens living in Roman-Britain. Roughly 400-410 AD right before the Romans are pulled out of Britain.

The Saxons are attacking and the "R&B's" have been forced to cooperate (as far as I know this isn't historically accurate, but it's very much something that could have happened).

I thought I might show you guys the last scene I wrote in my novel. :)

-Duer is the main character (it is from his perspective, first person)
-Ator is the primary antagonist, leader of the attacking Saxons (also called Sea Wolves)
-Arlyn and Brean are friends of Duer

I did edit it a bit so that it flowed better and (hopefully) makes more sense but this is still first draft material.
_________________________________________________________________________________

I find myself face to face with Ator.
Sometimes I wonder if the gods purposely plot out my demise and then throw up their hands in frustration when I escape.

He wouldn’t recognize me. He’s killed too many Romans and Britons for one to stand out. So the riot of battle can cloud even the sea gods gaze. I smile darkly. The sweeping strokes of his sword knock me to the ground within the first few minutes and I gasp in shock. How? I note how he has taken up a Roman sword in one hand, while he doesn’t wield it with grace, his strength more than compensates for skill. In his other hand he grips a spear.

I bring my arms up in submission. When the blade strikes down I fling myself to the side and the blade pierces the earth next to me. Now it is dancing through the air again, ready to plunge deep within me and wrest out my spirit. I’m almost tempted to let it. Such a death would guarantee a glorious afterlife.

A spear with the top of the shaft broken off lies to my left. My fingernails gouge the dirt and I make a fist around the spear to block against Ator’s sword. The shaft is snapped in two from sheer force. My arm tingles.

Again I’m forced to scramble away, having to pause to lurch out reach for a heartbeat from the unrelenting steel, panting and dragging in gulps of air. This is straining my body and my mind. Soon, all too soon, I will give out and be eliminated.

If only I could get onto my feet. In desperation I brace my palms on the ground and surge upwards, twisting to face Ator. He knocks the side of my head with his sword hilt. Everything sways and blurs and I collapse.

The only thing that exists is the sky. Gloriously empty. My head throbs, and I gladly distract myself from it by staring up into the endless depths of pale gray. It hurts too much to think. It takes too much effort to summon any lingering feelings of regret towards my friends or any lingering pity. I can’t bring myself to greet my death. The noise of banging shields and screams are a rough haze… What do I care for their quarrels?

Gray eyes connect with mine. A path links between us for a moment. Gray eyes. Gray sky. Endless. Hate and rage storm through them. Beautiful.

“Duer!”

Ator is shoved into the ground by a large body barreling through. Rough hands jerk me to my feet. Arlyn roars at me. “What are you doing?”

I see Ator recover and bare his teeth like a cornered hound.

“You were just staring.” Brean’s frantic shouts wash over me as he rushes to my side.

The sky vanishes and I blink. “I…”

“Why were you just staring? Staring!” Brean can’t seem to understand what exactly it was I had been doing.

I lick my lips. “I was greeting Death.”

He lets out a yell of frustration. Arlyn half paces, half jogs next to us, weapon held at ready to defend our retreat.

“Arlyn.” I greet him and attempt a wave. “Thanks.”

The dark haired warrior rolls his eyes and proceeds to ignore me.

Later I would wonder, if I were to kill Ator, how would he have felt in the afterlife? I was no one special. Would he be raging in humiliation and swearing revenge on me as he burned in whatever afterlife the Sea Wolves believed in? Or would he resign himself to his fate?

And I have to laugh. What are the odds of me killing Ator?

He is only a man.

He is also a god.

To his people and to some of the Britons, to me even, he is a god.

Who can kill a god?

But now, now this was war and war does not merely think. War is calculating and cruel as she takes lives. Her second in command is Death and he does her bidding.

I shake off another cloud of dizziness along with Brean’s supporting arm and charge yet again.

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

Sketch- November WIP


I've got a WIP for November.

This isn't a sketch, but it'll do.

I'm updating as I go on my FB page.


The fun with this drawing is that I'm not going to say who it is until it's finished. If you know who it is, let me know. ^_^

Here's what it looks like right now: