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| New Story!!!! FINALLY A BLURB OF IT!!! @__@ |
| 09.05.05 (9:53 am) [edit] |
Ok, switching gears, I want to introduce a story I've been working on recently. It's developing slowly, but I'm liking where it's going. For me the story is in an odd format, for it's written like a bibliography, and for a guy who likes playing God, that's hard for me to write in the views of one, simple person. So here I go, read this little excerpt, enjoy, and tell me what you think. When I finish chapter 1, I'll post it up for tblog to enjoy.
[u]Harken, Fellows[/u] by Mike Zand and compiled by Mike Mclaren
Introductory Statement
When my brother and I were younger, our dreams were all we cared about, and our knowledge lit up the path we had to take. As we went further down the path, our lights became darkened, and our path corrupted. However we walked further, together, even as his body was torn from me...even then we walked together, his soul in my mind and in my hands. There has been no other who has shared the bond my brother and I have, and even now, looking back at the horrors of our past, a smile was always needed in his presence, for he would accept no less.
[b]Part 1: Alchemy[/b]
[i]Chapter 1: The Price of Youth[/i]
I had been born a war baby. During the peak of what was and still is known as the Western War, I was presented (a figure of speeh, naturally), to Zanaris Zand and my dear mother, Julia Zand. My brother was born two years after myself, longer after the war had ended, and he was named Jeseph Mayes Zand, but would simply be known as Joe Zand, even as official records were written and signed.
First on my list of those to be mentioned is my mother, and idol of my dreams, who had the blue eyes of an angel, and the long brown hair to match. She was the only daughter of the C.E.O. of the Rimmington Manufacturer, a multi-million dollar corporation that dominated nearly every aspect of life in HQ. In order to marry my father, she left her family with their reiches to live in a small cozy house on four acres of land, located on the outskirts of the military city of Lahroul. She had been, apparently, the nicest woman to ever walk the earth, and she was more than willing to fight for what she believed was right; however, she died when I was two, and my first memory was at her funeral, and the image of her tombstone remained a guiding force for my later life.
My father was certainly an unforgettable man, and as he raised my brother and myself all by himself, some strength he most certainly had. He was a slave to the military, but only because he was undeniably in love with science. To this day I believe that to be the only thing he ever truly loved, for he had put science in front of my mother for many years up until her death. He had entered the military at the age of nineteen, having ran away from his orthodox religious family that had consisted of twelve children. My father had met my mother a year later, and at twenty-one they were engaged, married, and my mother was pregnant with the much younger me. He left to fight in the Western War in the frontlines and came back as it ended, to stay home as a simple researcher, where he began intense research into the makeup of the human mind and soul shortly after my mother's death. But after a strange accident (1), he switched his attention to density. Even after the accident, he spent little time as fatherand more as slight "guardian". He loved my mother yet he couldn't bring himself to love my brother and I quite the same (2).
My brother was born as my mother died, and I often sincerely called him "mother's exchange." Two years younger than I, Joe Zand was often much moe mature than myself. He was intelligent, and a [i]subtle quick-thinker[/i]. He rathered that I get credit for the actions we did in our lives, and he was truly not motivated by glory, fame,power, or riches of tis world. He was my best friend since the beginning, and he remained that was for all of his life. My journey through life is just the same as his, and as I joined the military in search for helping those who need help and for research, he entered only for the good of the people.
Those three people were my biological family, but now words must be said concerning the love of both my brother, my father, and my own life, which would form all of our dreams for the rest of our lives.
Alchemy is the rapid charging, deconstruction, and rearranging of the particles of matter using a vast amount of energy. Chemistry is not, as most believe, the after-image, but in fact is the precursor. In order to perform alchemy, a transmutation circle is needed. A transmutation circle is the symbol and bridge of power needed to activate the circle, NOT the formula. Indeed, formulas can be writtern into the workings of a transmutation circle, but true alchemists see formulas instead of objects, some would say. . . . . . . . . .
Notes:
(1) Zand was put into the hospital under pretenses of "an explosive scientific accident". Strangely, half of his internal ofrangs were missing, yet he managed to stay alive. Mike Zand omitted the details for one reason or another.
(2) For the first time, there is almost a longing sense of neglect concerning his father. This seems to be a frequent theme throughout his text and is something to be noted.
Ok, that's that. Now, this is the boring introduction crap, but let me tell you, there's tons of action and plot twists planned for this, so don't let this keep you away from my story. So okay...now on to other things.
SATURDAY NIGHT'S FOOTBALL GAME WAS AWESOME! ! !
My drumline played in front of the stands and the audience at halftime, and when we finished, I could have sworn the winning touchdown was scored at State finals, because we got a standing ovation, and they were all cheering. The best feeling in the world, I'm so proud of my line.
Leave me a comment, and I'll drop by your blog sometime.
Rast
Shout out: [url=http://robynandjessica.tblog....]RobynandJessica[/url] - New blogger, Robyn's the primary blogger and she's a sweet gal, so check it out and welcome the two to the tblog world.
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| A Story by Rast and his Friend |
| 09.04.05 (6:52 am) [edit] |
For the next week or so, I shall entertain you all with a story made by my friend and myself. Every day I'll give you a portion, and leave you waiting for more! Enjoy!
"Untitled" by Mike M and Gabe A
"I'm not to sure...we Magi are normally not too attached to the idea of letting a fourteen-year-old boy onto our Counsel, Erid." A man stood, wearing a long flowing navy blue robe, an intricately carved wooden symbol that resembled a cross ensnared by vines and enravaged by flames hung around his thin, pale neck. The man's face was also pale, but had the features of a certainly very lively man, for his age, naturally. The man's bushy white mustache seemed to heavily contrast to his thin lips and his scrawny long nose. This man reached into his navy blue robe and searched for quite some time, pulling out a rolled up piece of parchment that seemed to be sealed with some sort of spell. He held out his thin, white hand, the scroll held by thin, long fingers. A second man, dressed in a more royal sort of attire, reached out his hand and took the scroll. His face looked disappointed, not normal disappointment, but the type that would resemble a general who was facing his final losing battle and could now not turn back.
"Thank you for your time, Head Magi," spoke the disappointed man, earlier identified as Erid, "I am sad to say I wished more for the boy, having trained him myself."
"Such good intent a master should have. If only the Masters were better master keepers, eh?" The man in royal blue took a seat now behind a desk, and Erid, seeing it as a good time to leave, left with scroll in hand. Erid had prayed for the last three weeks that his apprentice, the First High Prince Mike Lorano of the Lorano-Hekal Line, the next inline for the throne, would have what it takes to enter the sacred Rank of the Magi, a hallowed group that consists of the most profound Mages in the known world. The term "Magi" purely meaning a person of the descendant of the Master Magus, controller, planner, and maker of all the magical arts. The term "Master", however, is more difficult of a concept to grasp. Erid, in any case, was crushed to hear that the Magi would not accept Mike purely for his age. . .a mere fourteen.
Mike, naturally, was no normal boy. Surely this was to be expected, being known across the land as First High Prince Mike Lorano of the Lorano-Hekal land, firstmost and proudly the first in line to the throne currently held by King Hekal, who had gained the privelege of his full 200 year rule of being called the "Golden King". The land had been in a grand state of peace for a full 200 years, and the world began to consider their apparently full blood Human king as something much more - some considered him an Honorary Master. All respected him and he was hated by no one, all revolutionaries having abandoned the cause years before. Beside him in every portrait every made of him was his most beautiful of women, Queen Victoria, who he had married not but twenty years from the day in question, and whom he swore to die with no matter what his health be. She was as nice a woman as women get and it is long believed she has strengthened many a country relation with her undying charm.
Mike, their first born child, had been discovered to have unusual magical abilities at the young age of six, when much to their horror guards found the whole of the left wing of their elaborate and luxurious palace burned to ash, Mike laughing, and denying with these fervent words:
"I didn't do it, I tell ye. As innocent as innocent comes does this boy who stand before you be."
Immediately the King and Queen sought for a dependable Magi to train their obviously gifted (yet very much dangerous) son the ways of magic, known in this land as Talmon Magis. Much to their luck, a man named Erid appeared at their doorstep, apparently ready to take on the challenge of training the young prince. Instantly Erid seemed approved by the High Magi Counsel, the Head Magi taken a back during Erid's own examination, and through extensive geneology revealed that Erid was indeed one of the hundred true Magi who were left upon the world, something even the High Magi Counsel didn't have on their belts.
All in all, Mike flourished in the arts, learning at an alarming rate that shocked even Erid. He would try spells hundreds of times in the same hour (a horribly dangerous action as it threatens to stop the heart) until he had perfected a technique. By the time he was twelve, he had performed every possible magic known in the world to be castable, and when he was fourteen, he had perfected it to the point where he know longer had to say the incantation or even hold out his left hand. Poised to enter the Magi, he had taken examinations, and after magnificent results, the Counsel found debate over his age, and the negative result had been the occurence. Erid now stood in front of Mike Lorano's doorway, the scroll of parchment in his hand, his face nervous, not happy to break the news to the always happy boy. The door opened before Erid knocked, and a teenager with matted short brown hair and emerald green eyes looked at Erid, a smile breaking onto his face.
"So?" asked Mike anxiously, holding out his hand.
"Well...read this, sire...should prove to answer any questions..." Erid sighed and handed the overzealous Mike the parchment, which he unraveled with ease and began to read. A sudden flash of red seemed to flare in Mike's placid green eyes, and he instantly swore aloud and slammed the door in Erid's face. Erid heard ruffling from inside.
"Do not forget our training! You must control your anger!"
"Apparently this damn idea of youth is something those old bastards in the Magi can't comprehend! No matter, I'll just have father-"
"Now you sound certainly spoiled!" Erid heard a vase break into pieces on the opposite side of the door, obviously aimed to hit an imaginary him, "Control, Mike! Control! If you don't control your emotions, your magic may flare!"
"I have no need for you anymore, Erid! Leave! I disband myself from your apprenticeship!"
"Mike! I cannot accept your disbanding, obviously there are some issues of control I must fix!"
"SILENCE, ERID!!!" yelled Mike from the other side, a hint of slight malice in his voice. The lock slid back on the door, and the door opened. Mike was ready to go somewhere, and he pushed Erid aside, "What would a dirty common Magi know....." Mike walked off, "I have friends to see, I expect you to use your precious magic and disappear from this palace before I return....." Mike walked off, his mind in pieces, his hopes and dreams shattered. In short, he was rather angry. He had always had an anger problem, and it always ended up badly. Best thing he could think of to fix such a problem was to see one of the few friends he had assembled in his life, one that was sure to brighten the mood with foolish antics certainly worthy of the son of a knight...
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| God?? Useful?? Are you KIDDING ME?! - First Post of Issue |
| 09.02.05 (4:32 pm) [edit] |
I present to you now a retaliatory statement to a post made from a very good blogger [url=http://beepbeep.tblog.com/]BeepBeep[/url] and I hereby decree that I share no hard feelings for Beep, very nice person. Simply bloggers opinion and freedom of speech. What can I say, I like to make big deals out of things, and I encourage Beep to fight back!
The Post of Issue: [url=http://beepbeep.tblog.com/]***Is God Useful?***[/url]
Ok, once again, no hard feelings, but here I go full out. The post, first of all, gives out very good points, which I will cover, but some very large inconsistencies remain, which I refuse to let go unnoticed! I am, also, of no certain religion, nor do I have a strong belief in God, so consider this an inverse belief of Beep's, but here I go in any case.
"To know if an object IS useles or NOT we must have some information about it, we must have at least one fact. I think this is very easy to accept, if we have no information about an object, we dont know how to handle it, we can't be sure about its existence. Its not useful."
The above lines immeadietly discredit the existence of God, but hey, that's not the object of the post, right? So what if God doesn't exist because we do not have one known fact proving He exists?
"Im talking about sensitive information, this is, given by our senses or innate intuitions. An innate intuition for example is a triangle, even an illiterate person knows in his mind that its an object with three sides, even if he never sees one in his life."
Trying to redeem yourself, are we? This contradicts the statement he made above and eliminates the need for a fact! Not only that, but I believe there has been a vocabulary mix-up! Here's the definitions of both innate and institution straight from good ole m-w.com :
Innate:
1 : existing in, belonging to, or determined by factors present in an individual from birth
2 : belonging to the essential nature of something : INHERENT
3 : originating in or derived from the mind or the constitution of the intellect rather than from experience
Institution:
1 : an act of instituting : ESTABLISHMENT
2 a : a significant practice, relationship, or organization in a society or culture ; also : something or someone firmly associated with a place or thing b : an established organization or corporation
Ok. I'm sure the reader sees why I'm getting some problems. Mainly the example the author uses is a poor one. After all, I have a feeling that when I was born I did not know what a triangle is. Also, I'm pretty sure the majority of illiterate people have gone as far as dissecting the prefix "tri-" from triangle and figuring out it means three. Really. I dare say, different when you actually understand the big words, isn't it, my fellow bloggers?
And that information given to us by our senses: "sensitive institutions" she has called it. That actually has some good sense put into it. This is one of the good points I noticed that I kept up until the end. KUDOS ON THIS ONE THERE, BEEPBEEP.
Now the really good part...her big examples. These kind of just fit together so majestically, it almost makes me want to cry for her choice. It was very well worded...However...
Ok, lets see some examples.
"A pen: Known facts: We use it to draw, its a material object.
Useful? Yes"
Yes, true true.
"A circumference: Its not a material object. A blind person could imagine it in his mind. Its an innate intuition, so It does exists.
Useful? Yes"
Ok, so a person can imagine it, but what makes it useful? I mean, I know it's useful, but you just kind of force it down my throat that it's useful. Why? Just because a blind person can imagine it?
"An unicorn: It DOES NOT exist.
Useful? Yes. We know a fact about unicorns so therefor is a real CONCEPT."
Give me a fact and I'll think about it. Not only that, but how is a unicorn useful?
"God: We dont know any facts about God.
Useful? According to this theory, It is not. And according to this, It does not exist."
Well now. You went absolutely nowhere in that whole blog so far, eh?
"Its a matter of accepting that we must have at least one fact about something, in order to consider it real. We can't say god exists but we can't say It doesnt exist."
This is true! However, according to the theory you just shoved on every reader's plate, he can not exist because we have no facts and he is not useful. Talk about confusing someone.
In all actuality, I'm rather confused myself about what exactly your point is. Are you trying to prove God is useful? If so, then why do you switch complete gears halfway through the post? But upon analyzing at least the top half of the blog, I'd have to throw that theory to the dogs, for having too many flaws, and being way to specific. After all, how do we determine how something is useful to us?
Thanks for being a good sport BeepBeep. Appreciated having something to post about and can't wait for the comments.
Later,
RastMitomo
PS: I'm on the lookout for controversial posts which I can respond to. Send names my way of good posts like this. Thanks.
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| Ello Again |
| 09.02.05 (2:34 pm) [edit] |
Well hello there. Sorry I forgot to post as I mentioned, drumline and homework once again won me over. But WOW. My first post in a long time, and boy did I get some comments. Thanks to all who commented. On another note...
Tomorrow night is the Austin LBJ game, and I'm horribly excited, tons of friends from the other side are going to be there to check out my drumline, so I decided, "hey why not write a new piece of music (((cadence)))?" So I did. It's totally great, and I can't wait. The weather report says it's supposed to rain all tomorrow and well into the night, but I don't care! I'll play in the rain! My drum will make it, we had them all water proofed, biatches. So it should be a great game.
The new story I'm writing is coming along slowly, for I have less time than ever, and only write a sentence here or there. When I get done with the first chapter (hopefully sometime by mid-month), I'll post it up, and you all can enjoy.
Ok, since there was a nice blogger from Argentina that left me a comment, I'd like to give them a bit of information.
I'm from the grand state of Texas, and despite popular beliefs, I'm neither a hick or fricking rich. I'm actually just a normal guy who really doesn't want to go to college, but instead either write novels or become a cartoon writer for one of my friends, who is currently in some college for animation. Either way, I'll make some money. I'm currently in my junior year of high school (one more year until I can graduate =) ) and I have a wicked sweet drumset. I'll give you guys an updated picture of it sometime. Anymore questions? I'd be glad to answer, and don't forget to remind me to check out your blog sometime, a bit pressed for time at the moment.
Ok, a quick opinion of mine...
Blogs are DEFINETLY cool. It's the bloggers that aren't all that cool. =P
Just got you guys.
Jesus, over and out.
Rast Mitomo
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Rast's Avatars! =D All Made by Me!
ONLY A SMALL BIT! I'll put more up later!
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