Night's Journal

[neworleans]

1/7/10

Last night, I had a dream involving Lestat, Louis, and myself. That alone is epic- it gets even better. It was one of the few times Louis can gloat over his sire. There were silvery boxes arranged in some sort of suspended structure. Lestat seemed to be trapped inside. Louis was on the other side of it, arms crossed and chuckling. Lestat said, "I'm not mad about being in here. But HOW THE HELL did you do it?" Louis said, "Still have that bitter attitude, I see." Hmm, what next... I was in what I now realize was Lestat's black Porsche (THAT IS A KICKASS CAR) in my garage. I wasn't supposed to be in there, it seems, and I "froze." He almost walked past, but then he saw me. He looked at me, smiled, and said, "How'd you get in there? Clever." Because I guess he didn't see me get in the car. Then he held out his hand to help me out. I took it as he was saying, "Come on. Let's get you over there." I guess 'there' was somewhere I was supposed to be. And do you know what? The garage was so packed with stuff on the side I got out that I ended up being held against his chest. I just about fainted from sheer joy. But srsly. He smelled really good. like clean cotton out of the dryer (from his jacket) and... some kind of shampoo. And he was giving off this comforting body heat. I guess he'd fed recently. So, we went to wherever we were going, and Louis was there. He seemed to be really happy to see me, and I'm not sure why. After that, I can’t really remember what happened.

[neworleans]

1/21/10

I wrote an anti-Twilight essay for school, and I'm quite proud of it. Here it is:

A young man approaches you in your science class. He is pale-skinned with oddly striking eyes. You find yourself wondering if he’s a vampire, but that can’t be true. After all, it’s the middle of the day. Besides, why would a vampire choose to spend eternity in high school? Later you find out you were actually right. How can this be? On top of that, it seems as though he’s… attracted to you? You only just met! You’re living in a poorly-written story with irksome characters and rules that just don’t fit-- Twilight.

To begin with, the writing style of this saga is amateur at best. The plot is far too predictable; I was able to correctly guess the outcome of the third book before it came out. The series’ unskilled nature is comparable to the compositions of an elementary school student. Its simple dialogue is unaided by the basic sentence structure. I’ve been told many times that, “You’re wrong! There’s a lot of really good vocabulary in there!” This brings me to my next point; many high-diction words are chucked in seemingly at random. While they may all relate to the topic being discussed at that point in the book, their level of diction doesn’t fit with the rest of the story, so they stick out and sound awkward. In fact, this flawed writing makes the tales difficult to read for any self-respecting intellectual.

Furthermore, the characters are annoying; they are either stereotypical, perfect, or both. If a character doesn’t fall into one of these categories, then he or she is simply faulty in general. For example, there’s Bella Swan. She’s a ditzy klutz, and yet she manages to win over the dark and mysterious vampire of her dreams. This brings us to Edward Cullen, the blood-sucker in question. As if it weren’t enough that Bella goes on and on about how preternaturally beautiful he is, this vampire remains indifferent to her advances for a good while, insisting that he’s a monster who cannot be with her. This makes him the clichéd “tragic hero.” In the fourth and (hopefully) final installment of the series, we discover that these two unlikely lovers have a child. Their offspring is a demonic infant, Renesmee, who comes out of her mother with teeth already in, and proceeds to bite the woman who bore her into the world. Perhaps it’s more than a coincidence that she shares her nickname, “Nessie,” with the infamous monster of Loch Ness. Indeed, there is something about each individual that tugs unpleasantly at the reader’s sense of character believability.

Lastly, the “rules” this story has for vampires and werewolves utterly cross the line. It’s true that these creatures are fictional, but there comes a point where giving them the ability to do certain things is just plain ridiculous. Because there are numerous examples, I shall focus on one: these vampires sparkle in the sunlight. Excuse me? Every other instance of vampire lore I have read states that these beings burn when their bodies come in contact with the sun’s rays, leaving behind either ashes or a large plume of smoke. Allowing them to merely sparkle not only makes them look ludicrous (who dumped glitter on them?), but eliminates a critical weakness. This causes vampires to become increasingly difficult to kill (again), and makes them far too powerful. In many literature circles that are lesser-known to the general public, this excessive strength is known as “godmodding”- giving a character superior abilities and an omniscient personality and mindset; it is highly frowned upon. Of course, this is just one piece of the puzzle that is so deadly to any who attempt to get through these novels.

On the whole, the Twilight saga is a detriment to the mental health of its readers. Its low-level writing style, combined with its unfitting rules, downgrade the meaning of a book. It sets the standard for literature far too low, causing the public to view what’s mediocre as the best. This stops many from ever reaching for a copy of Robinson Crusoe or The Grapes of Wrath, depriving them from the true classics. Twilight’s characters set poor examples of how people should be in the real world. Do we want more airheads like Bella running around? How about a few extra shameless creeps who’ve made Edward their role model? It’s safe to say that people want to better the world, not strip its inhabitants of their sanity. This tale both warps the minds and lowers the social IQs of those who have the misfortune of going through its pages.

[neworleans]

2/5/10

Quite possibly the most entertaining homework assignment I've ever had:

Blood Canticle, Anne Rice, pages 1-42

"I'm the Vampire Lestat, the most potent and lovable vampire ever created, a supernatural knockout, two hundred years old but fixed forever in the form of a twenty-year-old male with features and figure you'd die for---and just might. I'm endlessly resourceful, and undeniably charming. Death, disease, time, gravity, they mean nothing to me.

Only two things are my enemy: daylight, because it renders me completely lifeless and vulnerable to the burning rays of the sun, and conscience. In other words, I'm a condemned inhabitant of eternal night and an eternally tormented blood seeker.

Doesn't that make me sound irresistible?" (Rice 3)

Right off the bat (no pun intended), we get a load of information about the narrator. First, we find out quite a bit about this guy. You haven't read his previous books? That's not a huge problem, since he sums himself up in a nutshell right here. The entire first chapter is both character development and cleverly-worded explanation of the plotline. Of course, though the reader is filled in on many parts of the story they've missed (unless they've read the previous books), the whole thing is coated with his ego. If you were hoping for a modest narrator, pick up another book, mon ami. You may, in fact, want to choose an entirely different series, as he lets everyone know just how amazing he thinks he is in all but one book, which is narrated by a very important fledgling of his--- Louis de Pointe du Lac. Louis will show up later on, no doubt about that.

The first thing I thought when I read this was, "This guy has the biggest ego I've ever seen!" In other parts of the chapter, he goes on about how he wants his "life-sized statue in every church. I'm talking six feet tall, blond hair, blue eyes---" (Rice 3). Let me get this straight, Lestat. You, a vampire, want a statue of yourself in a church? Oh, my mistake; every church? Somehow, I think the whole thing about your kind being declared unholy by every Jesus-centered religion in the world might just make that a bit of a problem.
He also "want to be a saint. [He] want to save souls by the millions. [He] want to do good far and wide. [He] want to fight evil!" (Rice 3) Lestat, don't you have to be dead to be a saint? Oh, wait-- you are, technically. Still, saving souls? You've killed how many people? Alright, they were the scum of society. You want to do good, eh? Well, I suppose ridding the streets of criminals and drunkards could be considered a "public service." Wait, now you want to fight evil? Lestat, you are the definition of the word. I'm pretty sure you're not masochistic. Well, perhaps the people you so kindly weeded out of our Savage Garden, as you call the Earth, qualify as evil. Alright, they do. In an odd way, you're right about a lot of things. You planned it that way, didn't you, Brat Prince? Oh, come on--- you know you're fond of that title; you said it yourself. Right, onto the rest of this... interesting tale, then.

[neworleans]

The artists on my iPod:

AFI
The All-American Rejects
Avril Lavigne
Becky Taylor
Bowling for Soup
Britney Spears
Caramell
CASCADA
Coldplay
Dan Lavorel
Dragonforce
Fall Out Boy
Finger Eleven
The Goo Goo Dolls
Good Charlotte
Harry Chapin
Hedley
Julio Iglesias
Kelly
Lilly Allen
Marilyn Manson
Matchbox Twenty
My Chemical Romance
Napoleon's Ghost
P!nk
Paula Abdul
The Pierces
Pillar
Regina Spektor
Rihanna
The Rolling Stones
Sara Ramirez
Smash Mouth
The Starliet Singers
T.A.T.U.
ThouShaltNot
Three Days Grace
Voltaire
Weird Al Yankovic
Wicked Sensation
Within Temptation

Songs I plan on adding:

The Bells of Notre Dame from The Hunchback of Notre Dame
God Help the Outcasts from The Hunchback of Notre Dame
Kings and Queens by 30 Seconds to Mars
Living on a Prayer by Bon Jovi
Prayer of the Refugee by Rise Against
Vox Populi by 30 Seconds to Mars
Whispers In The Dark by Skillet

[neworleans]

This show was going to be a little different from the sort he usually did. Normally, Amant would either strip, work the pole, or dance. Tonight, he was going to perform a dance routine, stripping at various points in the song, and end the routine on the pole. The song? "Circus" by Britney Spears.

Upstage were a set of highbars and a trapeze setup. Just behind him was the pole he'd be using at the end; a metal one, since there had been some rather painful incidents back when Ryan was so cheap that he'd only pay for a wooden pole.

The lights dimmed, save for a spotlight on Amant. The music started up, and he crossed his arms (which were straight out) in front of him, his fingers fanned out. He then slowly moved them apart and upwards, jerking them apart at the first clapping sound in the song, at which point the rest of the lights came back on.

There's only two types of people in the world
The ones that entertain and the ones that observe
Well baby, I'm a put-on-a-show kind of girl
Don't like the backseat, gotta be first

He put up two fingers for the first part. Then he winked and lashed his tail for the next part, followed by air quotes when the word "girl" was sung. For the last bit, he pouted, then held up a forefinger and winked, grinning.

I'm like the ringleader, I call the shots
(Call the shots)
I'm like a firecracker; I make it hot
When I put on a show

A stagehand tossed him a tophat, which he put on, then a cane, which he caught and used for a quick pose. He then growled and bit the air, tossing the hat and cane aside.

I feel the adrenaline moving through my veins
Spotlight on me and I'm ready to break
I'm like a performer, the dancefloor is my stage
Better be ready, hope that you feel the same

Amant whipped his head to one side, then the other, as if he were looking for people following him. Having lived on Paris' streets for several years, he didn't have to act for that part. The spotlight singled him out again, and he put his hands in his hair and clenched his fists, first grimacing, then opening his mouth in a silent scream. The hybri then strutted a bit and pointed at the audience, winking.

All eyes on me in the center of the ring just like a circus
When I crack that whip, everybody gon' trip just like a circus
Don't stand there watching me, follow me, show me what you can do
Everybody let go, we can make a dancefloor just like a circus

His gaze scanned the audience, then stopped abruptly as he caught a whip the stagehand tossed him. He cracked it, then tossed it aside. The gypsy put both arms out in front of him and made a "come here" gesture with both hands.

The next three stanzas were ones that had already been played, so he simply did the same moves for those.

There's only two types of guys out there
Ones that can hang with me and ones that are scared
So baby, I hope that you came prepared
I run a tight ship so beware

Amant put up two fingers for the first bit. He next pointed to himself, then bit the air again. He backed up, picked up the whip, and cracked it again before tossing it aside.

The next three stanzas were more repeats, so he did the corresponding moves he'd done earlier.

Let's go
Let me see what you can do
I'm runnin' this like-like-like a circus
Yeah, like a what? Like-like-like a circus

This was where he got fancy. He leapt up onto the first bar, twirled around it, then let go and did the same on the second bar, perching on the top for a moment.

All eyes on me in the center of the ring just like a circus
When I crack that whip, everybody gon' trip just like a circus
Don't stand there watching me, follow me, show me what you can do
Everybody let go, we can make a dancefloor just like a circus

The gypsy leapt onto the trapeze, swung on it, let go, flipped twice in midair, then landed on both feet, standing. He was tossed another whip, cracked it, and threw it behind him. He then repeated the "come here" gesture from before.

This stanza was repeated once more. This time, he did a backwards flip, picked up the whip (now beside him), cracked it, and flung it offstage. He then leapt up onto the first bar, jumped off, flipped once in midair, then grabbed onto the pole as he descended, letting the momentum spin him around the thing.

By the time the song ended, Amant was clad in only a pair of leather briefs that matched his outfit from before. He held onto the pole with all but one hand; he stretched out that arm, looked at the audience again, and winked, giving a big smile.

The crowd went nuts.