So...I'm working on a DIFFERENT novel....this one has made it a lot farther than the other. Not gonna tell too much yet, until I get much further into writing process. :)
Thanks for hanging in there...if you are.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Change of plans
So, I have been working on a new novel. Sort about the end of the world. Work has been good so far, but I have a long way to go before its finished...or even near that.
Stories from the Matchbox is still in process, I have just took a break is all. Maybe I'll write another one here soon ;)
So until then, see yas.
Stories from the Matchbox is still in process, I have just took a break is all. Maybe I'll write another one here soon ;)
So until then, see yas.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Real World
Here's another story, unedited. Hope you enjoy it...also the tone isn't like the song. In fact it is the complete opposite, but who I am to argue with the muse? jk. :) The song playing the song I based the story off of.
Real World
"Real World" Matchbox Twenty
He looked up feeling the rain drip on his face. He closed his eyes and smiled, basking in the knowledge that this rain was his. He had come to the little town suffering from drought, knowing that he would be the one to save it. The dusty little town would have died without him. He was their lifesaver, the rainmaker. A roll of thunder punctuated the smile of joy that lit across his face. The rain fell from the sky faster and faster and his heart kept pace, beating till he could barely tell the sound of it from the rain. He whooped and started to dance, regardless of who might see.
Carl woke with a start, half expecting to hear rain pounding against the glass of his window. The dreams had become more and more real as the weeks went on. It was to the point where he couldn’t tell if he was dreaming or it was really happening. Why, just last week he dreamt he was on safari. He woke up at his desk feeling the wild African wind blow through his hair. He had never in his life had such vivid dreams. At first they were few, happening only once a month, progressing until they came every night. He always awoke no more rested than when he had fallen asleep. Mary took him to a doctor to see if there was anything they could do for him. Nothing was wrong with, the doctor said. He flipped his pillow over, savoring the cool feel of it against his cheek. He closed his eyes as the pit pat of water hit the window.
The morning peeked through soaked skies as Carl walked up to his office. It had rained all morning, making his already gloomy mood almost unbearable. With no rest, his day seemed drab compared to his colorful nights. His coworkers avoided him when he came in with bags under his eyes. They knew of his condition, the one the doctors kept telling him didn’t exist. Sitting at his desk, he went about his routine until he could keep his eyes open no longer. He fought against it, knowing that if he allowed his eyes to close he would open them in a new world, more exciting than the one he was living in now. He didn’t want that. He wanted to be happy here, in his life, the life he had lived for thirty years. He was happily married, had a good paying job, the best friends, had an overall great life. His dreams had him yearning for more out of his life. But despite all the effort, his eyes drifted shut.
The sun was shining beautifully. He closed his eyes as he felt the gentle fingertips of warmth caress his skin. Breathing in deep, he could smell the warmth in the air as a fragrance infusing everything with energy, even him. Smiling, he stepped off the roof, feeling the air rush past him. He pulled up, barely missing the concrete and an astonished pigeon. Flying never lost its excitement. There was also a certain peace in it; purer, somehow than the earth below. If he was being honest with himself, the sky was closer to home than the brown earth he plodded each day.
Carl woke with a start, almost falling out of his chair. He still felt the weightlessness of not being bound by gravity. Instead of scaring him, he longed for it. Somewhere deep inside him, the dream felt more like a memory than something his mind made up. Confused, he made his way to his car. It hit that if he accepted his dreams instead of fighting them, he may be able to ease them away. Wean him off them in a way. He walked through his door wearing a smile that Mary hadn’t seen in months. Her smile in return lit up her haggard face. Dinner that night was the best they had since the dreams had hit Carl. He went to sleep without a care in the world, Mary curled at his side.
Standing at bow hearing the water lap at the wood, he let out a loud whoop. The salt in the air and the creak of the boat made up his world. In the distance, loomed what appeared to be a storm, but unlike any storm he had ever seen. It was tinged with green and made a sickly rumble sound, like the air itself was ill. He yelled at the crew to ready the vessel for what he knew would be a rough ride. He couldn’t hide his grin though at the prospect of riding the storm, feeling the wind whip his hair back and the rain pelt him, to hear the thunder crash and the lightning charging the air with energy. He would be alive, truly alive. He met the first wave with a joyous laugh.
Instead of waking with a start, Carl rode the dream just like he rode the storm. He woke with a smile on his face. It was beautiful, and like all the other dreams lately it seemed more like a memory than a dream. The images were too clear and pure. The more he thought about it the more Carl became sure that the dreams were memories. They didn’t make sense but then again they felt right.
The next couple of days only confirmed his growing suspicion. When he was awake he could recall the smell, the feel and sensation of the dreams. Dreams were meant to fade away, leaving nothing but these left something behind, a residue of feeling. Some of the dreams made no sense. One night he had a conversation with a fairy king, in another he taught dolphins Morse code. But there were some that hit him with a force of a speeding arrow; his daughter’s marriage, leading his troop into victory, and a very heated argument with the President. Even though he never had a daughter, never enlisted, or even seen the president, those dreams left him each morning feeling like he had regained a part of his life that he had lost.
Even Mary saw the difference in him. She asked him time and again, what had happened to work such a change in him. He refrained from telling her, afraid that she would think him crazy. But Mary was a persistent woman, it was one of the reasons he had married her. He finally broke down and told her. It was a mistake.
“Memories? Carl, that’s ridicules. You’ve lived in Boston your whole life. You are an accountant for goodness sakes. You can’t swim, let alone sail. And fairies are not real. Carl you know this.”
“Mary, please try to understand. You know these dreams aren’t normal.”
“Yes. But Carl, seriously. The world isn’t like that.”
Carl looked at her, hurt in his eyes. He thought Mary would believe him, stand by him. He knew it was a little hard to take in, but couldn’t she see he was serious about it. He was right, he knew it.
The weeks became strained in the Patrick household. The dreams continued every night, and Mary continued to look at him with concern in her eyes. He wasn’t totally surprised when he came home to see her and a doctor sitting in the front room waiting on him.
“Carl, this is Dr. Steven. He’s here to help”
“I don’t need help, Mary. I’m perfectly fine. Better in fact than I have in years.”
The doctor stood up. “Sir, I won’t take but a minute of your time. Please I just want to talk.”
Carl sat eyes on Mary the whole time. The doctor continued.
“Mary tells me that you are having dreams, Carl. Vivid dreams and that you believe them to be memories. Why?”
“Why do I have the dreams or think they are memories?”
“Why do you think they are memories?”
Carl looked at the doctor, capturing the doctor’s hazel with his passionate chocolate brown. “Because they don’t fade when I wake up. I can recall them perfectly and seem right.”
“Right?”
“Yes, right.” Suddenly, Carl leaned closer to Dr. Steven, “I was missing something from my life, and this was it. These memories. I had no idea how unhappy I was, how bland. Then I start remembering, and at first it scared me, drained me. Until I gave in and let myself remember. And I do. I remember everything. The smell of salt on the ocean, the feel of decaying leaves under my boot, even the taste of the finest fairy wine. I remember, I don’t know how I lost them in the first place, but I will not lose them again”
He could feel the stares as he stood up and walked into his bedroom. Putting his ear to the door, he could make out his wife’s sobs and the doctor’s oily smooth condolences.
“Ma’am we need to take him in. He clearly isn’t well. We can help him. But it is up to you.”
“What will happen if he doesn’t get help? Surely it will just fade away?”
“I haven’t had the chance to thoroughly examine him, but from what I have seen that if Carl is left alone it might get to the point he could harm himself or others. He shows all the signs of delusion. He firmly believes that he has done the things in his dreams.”
“He’s never had problems before. Why now?”
“Stress? Midlife crisis? Who knows? All I know right now is that your husband needs help Mrs. Patrick and that we can provide it. But it is up to you.”
Carl sighed. He knew what Mary’s decision would be. She would rather see him in the padded prisons safe, than living in what she considered a fantasy world out in society. She couldn’t see that this was the real world, and not a fantasy created out of his mind. How could he make her see it?
The door opened cautiously and Mary peeked in.
“Carl, honey? We need to talk.”
“Mary, please believe me!”
“Carl, you have never done those things. It is a delusion, a lie that your brain has concocted.”
“You don’t understand. I have done all of these things. I am sure of it. It’s like I’ve lived different lives but I’m still me. My dreams are the memories of those lives.”
“No, you’re sick. You can’t help it. That’s why you must get help. Just go in, please. They can help you, honey. Help you get back to normal, back to the way you were.”
Carl wanted Mary to believe him, not go back to “normal.” Normal was done and over with and Carl planned on never going back down that road.
“Mary, normal isn’t what I need. I need to live and not within padded walls. Out there,” he pointed out the window, “and I want you to come with me. All I want from my old life is you.” He held out his hand.
Mary looked at him, desperation and confusion swirling in her eyes.
“I can’t,” she whispered, “Carl, I…I can’t. You’re delusional. You live in your head and not in reality. Not in reality, here with me.”
Turning she walked out of the room, tears spilling.
“He seems so happy, Erica. I’ve never seen him this happy,” Mary sobbed into the phone. “I just don’t know what to do.”
“You take him to the hospital, see what they can do. Mary, he needs help, you know that. He’ll thank you when he’s back to his right mind.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of, that this is his right mind.”
“How can that be, Mary? People don’t fly or talk to fairies, not in the real world.
“I know, I know. But Erica he’s convinced that they are real, so convinced.”
“Just take him, and it’ll be over in a few months time”
Carl stood on the edge, toes gripping the cold concrete. He couldn’t go into that hospital. They would do everything they could to break him, take away his memories. Tears cascaded down his cheeks as the thought of Mary, the one person who he had put his faith in that she would believe him. But she hadn’t. she wanted him to go into those tiny white rooms, where dreams shriveled and died and the spirit hid in fear in the corners. He would never go there and it was killing him to leave Mary behind. But he must, Carl knew that. Leaving Mary behind, meant that he could live.
“I’m sorry Mary, sorry you didn’t believe me.”
He concentrated on the feeling of weightlessness. He had flown once he could do it again. Carl stepped off and let the wind blow him away from the doubt.
Mary picked up the phone, “Yes?”
“Is this Mrs. Patrick? It’s Lt. Joey Dunham, from the police department.”
“Is anything wrong?”
“Mrs. Patrick, we found your husband dead about an hour ago.”
“What?”
“It appears that he fell off a roof, ma’am. We would like you to come down to the station and answer some questions.”
“Of course.”
“I am sorry for your loss”
The rest of what the lieutenant said never reached Mary. She broke down into sobs. Carl was dead, the real world had killed him.
Real World
"Real World" Matchbox Twenty
He looked up feeling the rain drip on his face. He closed his eyes and smiled, basking in the knowledge that this rain was his. He had come to the little town suffering from drought, knowing that he would be the one to save it. The dusty little town would have died without him. He was their lifesaver, the rainmaker. A roll of thunder punctuated the smile of joy that lit across his face. The rain fell from the sky faster and faster and his heart kept pace, beating till he could barely tell the sound of it from the rain. He whooped and started to dance, regardless of who might see.
Carl woke with a start, half expecting to hear rain pounding against the glass of his window. The dreams had become more and more real as the weeks went on. It was to the point where he couldn’t tell if he was dreaming or it was really happening. Why, just last week he dreamt he was on safari. He woke up at his desk feeling the wild African wind blow through his hair. He had never in his life had such vivid dreams. At first they were few, happening only once a month, progressing until they came every night. He always awoke no more rested than when he had fallen asleep. Mary took him to a doctor to see if there was anything they could do for him. Nothing was wrong with, the doctor said. He flipped his pillow over, savoring the cool feel of it against his cheek. He closed his eyes as the pit pat of water hit the window.
The morning peeked through soaked skies as Carl walked up to his office. It had rained all morning, making his already gloomy mood almost unbearable. With no rest, his day seemed drab compared to his colorful nights. His coworkers avoided him when he came in with bags under his eyes. They knew of his condition, the one the doctors kept telling him didn’t exist. Sitting at his desk, he went about his routine until he could keep his eyes open no longer. He fought against it, knowing that if he allowed his eyes to close he would open them in a new world, more exciting than the one he was living in now. He didn’t want that. He wanted to be happy here, in his life, the life he had lived for thirty years. He was happily married, had a good paying job, the best friends, had an overall great life. His dreams had him yearning for more out of his life. But despite all the effort, his eyes drifted shut.
The sun was shining beautifully. He closed his eyes as he felt the gentle fingertips of warmth caress his skin. Breathing in deep, he could smell the warmth in the air as a fragrance infusing everything with energy, even him. Smiling, he stepped off the roof, feeling the air rush past him. He pulled up, barely missing the concrete and an astonished pigeon. Flying never lost its excitement. There was also a certain peace in it; purer, somehow than the earth below. If he was being honest with himself, the sky was closer to home than the brown earth he plodded each day.
Carl woke with a start, almost falling out of his chair. He still felt the weightlessness of not being bound by gravity. Instead of scaring him, he longed for it. Somewhere deep inside him, the dream felt more like a memory than something his mind made up. Confused, he made his way to his car. It hit that if he accepted his dreams instead of fighting them, he may be able to ease them away. Wean him off them in a way. He walked through his door wearing a smile that Mary hadn’t seen in months. Her smile in return lit up her haggard face. Dinner that night was the best they had since the dreams had hit Carl. He went to sleep without a care in the world, Mary curled at his side.
Standing at bow hearing the water lap at the wood, he let out a loud whoop. The salt in the air and the creak of the boat made up his world. In the distance, loomed what appeared to be a storm, but unlike any storm he had ever seen. It was tinged with green and made a sickly rumble sound, like the air itself was ill. He yelled at the crew to ready the vessel for what he knew would be a rough ride. He couldn’t hide his grin though at the prospect of riding the storm, feeling the wind whip his hair back and the rain pelt him, to hear the thunder crash and the lightning charging the air with energy. He would be alive, truly alive. He met the first wave with a joyous laugh.
Instead of waking with a start, Carl rode the dream just like he rode the storm. He woke with a smile on his face. It was beautiful, and like all the other dreams lately it seemed more like a memory than a dream. The images were too clear and pure. The more he thought about it the more Carl became sure that the dreams were memories. They didn’t make sense but then again they felt right.
The next couple of days only confirmed his growing suspicion. When he was awake he could recall the smell, the feel and sensation of the dreams. Dreams were meant to fade away, leaving nothing but these left something behind, a residue of feeling. Some of the dreams made no sense. One night he had a conversation with a fairy king, in another he taught dolphins Morse code. But there were some that hit him with a force of a speeding arrow; his daughter’s marriage, leading his troop into victory, and a very heated argument with the President. Even though he never had a daughter, never enlisted, or even seen the president, those dreams left him each morning feeling like he had regained a part of his life that he had lost.
Even Mary saw the difference in him. She asked him time and again, what had happened to work such a change in him. He refrained from telling her, afraid that she would think him crazy. But Mary was a persistent woman, it was one of the reasons he had married her. He finally broke down and told her. It was a mistake.
“Memories? Carl, that’s ridicules. You’ve lived in Boston your whole life. You are an accountant for goodness sakes. You can’t swim, let alone sail. And fairies are not real. Carl you know this.”
“Mary, please try to understand. You know these dreams aren’t normal.”
“Yes. But Carl, seriously. The world isn’t like that.”
Carl looked at her, hurt in his eyes. He thought Mary would believe him, stand by him. He knew it was a little hard to take in, but couldn’t she see he was serious about it. He was right, he knew it.
The weeks became strained in the Patrick household. The dreams continued every night, and Mary continued to look at him with concern in her eyes. He wasn’t totally surprised when he came home to see her and a doctor sitting in the front room waiting on him.
“Carl, this is Dr. Steven. He’s here to help”
“I don’t need help, Mary. I’m perfectly fine. Better in fact than I have in years.”
The doctor stood up. “Sir, I won’t take but a minute of your time. Please I just want to talk.”
Carl sat eyes on Mary the whole time. The doctor continued.
“Mary tells me that you are having dreams, Carl. Vivid dreams and that you believe them to be memories. Why?”
“Why do I have the dreams or think they are memories?”
“Why do you think they are memories?”
Carl looked at the doctor, capturing the doctor’s hazel with his passionate chocolate brown. “Because they don’t fade when I wake up. I can recall them perfectly and seem right.”
“Right?”
“Yes, right.” Suddenly, Carl leaned closer to Dr. Steven, “I was missing something from my life, and this was it. These memories. I had no idea how unhappy I was, how bland. Then I start remembering, and at first it scared me, drained me. Until I gave in and let myself remember. And I do. I remember everything. The smell of salt on the ocean, the feel of decaying leaves under my boot, even the taste of the finest fairy wine. I remember, I don’t know how I lost them in the first place, but I will not lose them again”
He could feel the stares as he stood up and walked into his bedroom. Putting his ear to the door, he could make out his wife’s sobs and the doctor’s oily smooth condolences.
“Ma’am we need to take him in. He clearly isn’t well. We can help him. But it is up to you.”
“What will happen if he doesn’t get help? Surely it will just fade away?”
“I haven’t had the chance to thoroughly examine him, but from what I have seen that if Carl is left alone it might get to the point he could harm himself or others. He shows all the signs of delusion. He firmly believes that he has done the things in his dreams.”
“He’s never had problems before. Why now?”
“Stress? Midlife crisis? Who knows? All I know right now is that your husband needs help Mrs. Patrick and that we can provide it. But it is up to you.”
Carl sighed. He knew what Mary’s decision would be. She would rather see him in the padded prisons safe, than living in what she considered a fantasy world out in society. She couldn’t see that this was the real world, and not a fantasy created out of his mind. How could he make her see it?
The door opened cautiously and Mary peeked in.
“Carl, honey? We need to talk.”
“Mary, please believe me!”
“Carl, you have never done those things. It is a delusion, a lie that your brain has concocted.”
“You don’t understand. I have done all of these things. I am sure of it. It’s like I’ve lived different lives but I’m still me. My dreams are the memories of those lives.”
“No, you’re sick. You can’t help it. That’s why you must get help. Just go in, please. They can help you, honey. Help you get back to normal, back to the way you were.”
Carl wanted Mary to believe him, not go back to “normal.” Normal was done and over with and Carl planned on never going back down that road.
“Mary, normal isn’t what I need. I need to live and not within padded walls. Out there,” he pointed out the window, “and I want you to come with me. All I want from my old life is you.” He held out his hand.
Mary looked at him, desperation and confusion swirling in her eyes.
“I can’t,” she whispered, “Carl, I…I can’t. You’re delusional. You live in your head and not in reality. Not in reality, here with me.”
Turning she walked out of the room, tears spilling.
“He seems so happy, Erica. I’ve never seen him this happy,” Mary sobbed into the phone. “I just don’t know what to do.”
“You take him to the hospital, see what they can do. Mary, he needs help, you know that. He’ll thank you when he’s back to his right mind.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of, that this is his right mind.”
“How can that be, Mary? People don’t fly or talk to fairies, not in the real world.
“I know, I know. But Erica he’s convinced that they are real, so convinced.”
“Just take him, and it’ll be over in a few months time”
Carl stood on the edge, toes gripping the cold concrete. He couldn’t go into that hospital. They would do everything they could to break him, take away his memories. Tears cascaded down his cheeks as the thought of Mary, the one person who he had put his faith in that she would believe him. But she hadn’t. she wanted him to go into those tiny white rooms, where dreams shriveled and died and the spirit hid in fear in the corners. He would never go there and it was killing him to leave Mary behind. But he must, Carl knew that. Leaving Mary behind, meant that he could live.
“I’m sorry Mary, sorry you didn’t believe me.”
He concentrated on the feeling of weightlessness. He had flown once he could do it again. Carl stepped off and let the wind blow him away from the doubt.
Mary picked up the phone, “Yes?”
“Is this Mrs. Patrick? It’s Lt. Joey Dunham, from the police department.”
“Is anything wrong?”
“Mrs. Patrick, we found your husband dead about an hour ago.”
“What?”
“It appears that he fell off a roof, ma’am. We would like you to come down to the station and answer some questions.”
“Of course.”
“I am sorry for your loss”
The rest of what the lieutenant said never reached Mary. She broke down into sobs. Carl was dead, the real world had killed him.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Feet off the Ground
Here's the most recent short story. It IS NOT part of my book. This is just a side story that I thought you guys would like. And it is Dedicated to Sis. Lorraine Pelkey. This is a story I wrote for her cause I said I would. Enjoy! :) Again this is not based on anything other than what came out of my head.
She was lost. But she didn’t care. The trees, tall and proud, welcomed her into their solitude. The sun was warm on her head and she lifted her face to feel it caress her cheeks and eyelids. She moved softly on bare feet over the forest floor, her long white dress disturbing leaves and dirt. Living here wouldn’t be so bad, she thought. When she made her escape she didn’t stop to think where she would go. Somewhere safe, peaceful, the only desire she had, seemed the very embodiment of this forest. It wouldn’t be that hard, she decided. She smiled, her pale rose lips parting to expose her white teeth. On a whim, she twirled, spinning faster and faster, golden hair fanning. She fell, laughing, full of joy that she had finally accomplished her long time dream.
And to think she had a monster to thank. If it wasn’t for the creature attacking her village, the people would never have thought of sacrificing her. It was because they had tied her out on the edge of the village that the opportunity came. Before the monster could even notice her, she had slipped out of the restraints and ran into the shelter of the forest. She was free. And this freedom was so sweet. It smelled like after a rainstorm or a freshly bloomed rose. It tasted like the first apple of spring or newly baked bread. It sounded like a baby bird of the rushing of a stream. Felt like mud between toes or goslings soft down. No rules except those of life. And those were a lot less restraining to her, than the ones imposed by the men and women of the village.
It took her a moment to notice that silence had taken over the quite chatter of the forest. It was as if someone had put a wool blanket over her head. Nothing moved. The hairs on her neck and arms stood up. Slowly, almost against her will, she looked up. Her blue eyes grew huge and her breath came in gasps. Scrabbling backward, she tried to distance herself from the danger above her. It was too late.
With a roar, it swooped. She was yanked into the air before she could scream. The dress ripped and she felt the claws dig into her flesh. Terrified of looking up, she looked down, and this time gasped for a different reason. Her fear was whipped away by the wind. The land below her was beautiful. Green and rolling, set with flecks of blue and brown, she felt like she could reach down and wrap it around herself like a blanket. In her last hours she was offered something no one else was: a chance to see what the world looked like from above. Spreading her arms in imitation of the wings above her, she closed her eyes and smiled. This was the perfect ending, a true escape. How could anyone be truly free without getting their feet off the ground?
She was lost. But she didn’t care. The trees, tall and proud, welcomed her into their solitude. The sun was warm on her head and she lifted her face to feel it caress her cheeks and eyelids. She moved softly on bare feet over the forest floor, her long white dress disturbing leaves and dirt. Living here wouldn’t be so bad, she thought. When she made her escape she didn’t stop to think where she would go. Somewhere safe, peaceful, the only desire she had, seemed the very embodiment of this forest. It wouldn’t be that hard, she decided. She smiled, her pale rose lips parting to expose her white teeth. On a whim, she twirled, spinning faster and faster, golden hair fanning. She fell, laughing, full of joy that she had finally accomplished her long time dream.
And to think she had a monster to thank. If it wasn’t for the creature attacking her village, the people would never have thought of sacrificing her. It was because they had tied her out on the edge of the village that the opportunity came. Before the monster could even notice her, she had slipped out of the restraints and ran into the shelter of the forest. She was free. And this freedom was so sweet. It smelled like after a rainstorm or a freshly bloomed rose. It tasted like the first apple of spring or newly baked bread. It sounded like a baby bird of the rushing of a stream. Felt like mud between toes or goslings soft down. No rules except those of life. And those were a lot less restraining to her, than the ones imposed by the men and women of the village.
It took her a moment to notice that silence had taken over the quite chatter of the forest. It was as if someone had put a wool blanket over her head. Nothing moved. The hairs on her neck and arms stood up. Slowly, almost against her will, she looked up. Her blue eyes grew huge and her breath came in gasps. Scrabbling backward, she tried to distance herself from the danger above her. It was too late.
With a roar, it swooped. She was yanked into the air before she could scream. The dress ripped and she felt the claws dig into her flesh. Terrified of looking up, she looked down, and this time gasped for a different reason. Her fear was whipped away by the wind. The land below her was beautiful. Green and rolling, set with flecks of blue and brown, she felt like she could reach down and wrap it around herself like a blanket. In her last hours she was offered something no one else was: a chance to see what the world looked like from above. Spreading her arms in imitation of the wings above her, she closed her eyes and smiled. This was the perfect ending, a true escape. How could anyone be truly free without getting their feet off the ground?
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
cradlesong release and review
cradlesong is out!!!! I have been listening almost nonstop since I got it. I love every single song!!! Not many cd's I can say that of. And since this page is in relation to all things Rob/MB20 I figured I'll give you my review. It's gonna be a bit hard, since I'm biased but I will try to be as objective as possible lol. Ok here we go!
1.Her Diamonds- This is the first single off of the album. A song about empathy, it is a prime example of Rob's ability to portray feeling through his lyrics and voice.
2.Gasoline-A pretty good song. After a couple of listens, it becomes catchy. It has an electronic type sound, but lovely all the same.
3.Give Me the Meltdown-Upbeat and bass driven, this song is catchy and will make you dance. I suggest you listen to this one.
4. Someday-This will be the second single. And a BRILLIANT example of Rob's songwriting abilities. One of my top favorites. Lots of piano/keyboard and a choir singing, make for a very beautiful song.
5. Mockingbird-Catchy, with wonderful lyrics. This is one that gets stuck in my head most of the times. It also shows the range of Rob's voice.
6.Real World '09- My favorite song off this cd. Awesome beat, bass and lyrics. The lyrics describe my life right now, and the whole song makes you want to get up and dance. You just can't keep still when listening to this song. This is a MUST listen.
7.Fire on the Mountain-An Eastern sounding rock song, the powerful lyrics and the dynamics of this song are just beautiful. I think it is the dynamics and the melody that are what makes this song wonderful.
8.Hard on You-Cute. That's the word that comes to mind when I hear this song. Just cute. Not to hard, and not to soft. Perfect ballance.
9. Still Ain't Over You-One of the hardest songs on the cd, Still Ain't Over You is a total ROCK song. ;) Reminds me a bit of the old Matchbox songs with a New Rob twist. Very cool and lovely. Total Air guitar song.
10. Natural-This is the one song that still has some growing on me to do. It's also a rock song, but more slow than Still Ain't Over You. But I love the dynamics on this one too. Especially, near the end where the calm is so beautiful then BAM! Loud rock again. But it has its charms.
11. Snowblind- I love this song. Lyrics, melody, voice, everything is perfect. It's the perfect blend of Rock too. Not to hard, and not to soft. Not to slow, or too fast. This song also shows the range of Rob's voice.
12.Wonderful-It's rock with horns. Serious like trumpets. :) And very very catchy. And the lyrics? Well, they are written by Rob after all, and they are AMAZING. "Look at me, I'm made of wonderful, it's terrible." Seriously, who comes up with lines like that?
13. Cradlesong-Beautiful. All around Beautiful. Nothing else to say, except this one of my favorites. So touching and brilliant. It's a slow, saddish song. And Rob's voice....man. Again the word to describe this song is Beautiful. I think this song is the must hear of the album.
14.Getting Late-Rob gets a bit country. And it being a song about death/end of life, is very hopeful sounding. Quite simply a nice song, with the trademark Thomas lyrics.
And now my top 5....
1.Real World '09
2.Cradlesong
3.Wonderful
4.Snowblind
5.Someday
:D oh and I'm still working on my next story. It's just the story well has been dry the past couple of weeks. But rest easy, people, it will fill up again ;)
1.Her Diamonds- This is the first single off of the album. A song about empathy, it is a prime example of Rob's ability to portray feeling through his lyrics and voice.
2.Gasoline-A pretty good song. After a couple of listens, it becomes catchy. It has an electronic type sound, but lovely all the same.
3.Give Me the Meltdown-Upbeat and bass driven, this song is catchy and will make you dance. I suggest you listen to this one.
4. Someday-This will be the second single. And a BRILLIANT example of Rob's songwriting abilities. One of my top favorites. Lots of piano/keyboard and a choir singing, make for a very beautiful song.
5. Mockingbird-Catchy, with wonderful lyrics. This is one that gets stuck in my head most of the times. It also shows the range of Rob's voice.
6.Real World '09- My favorite song off this cd. Awesome beat, bass and lyrics. The lyrics describe my life right now, and the whole song makes you want to get up and dance. You just can't keep still when listening to this song. This is a MUST listen.
7.Fire on the Mountain-An Eastern sounding rock song, the powerful lyrics and the dynamics of this song are just beautiful. I think it is the dynamics and the melody that are what makes this song wonderful.
8.Hard on You-Cute. That's the word that comes to mind when I hear this song. Just cute. Not to hard, and not to soft. Perfect ballance.
9. Still Ain't Over You-One of the hardest songs on the cd, Still Ain't Over You is a total ROCK song. ;) Reminds me a bit of the old Matchbox songs with a New Rob twist. Very cool and lovely. Total Air guitar song.
10. Natural-This is the one song that still has some growing on me to do. It's also a rock song, but more slow than Still Ain't Over You. But I love the dynamics on this one too. Especially, near the end where the calm is so beautiful then BAM! Loud rock again. But it has its charms.
11. Snowblind- I love this song. Lyrics, melody, voice, everything is perfect. It's the perfect blend of Rock too. Not to hard, and not to soft. Not to slow, or too fast. This song also shows the range of Rob's voice.
12.Wonderful-It's rock with horns. Serious like trumpets. :) And very very catchy. And the lyrics? Well, they are written by Rob after all, and they are AMAZING. "Look at me, I'm made of wonderful, it's terrible." Seriously, who comes up with lines like that?
13. Cradlesong-Beautiful. All around Beautiful. Nothing else to say, except this one of my favorites. So touching and brilliant. It's a slow, saddish song. And Rob's voice....man. Again the word to describe this song is Beautiful. I think this song is the must hear of the album.
14.Getting Late-Rob gets a bit country. And it being a song about death/end of life, is very hopeful sounding. Quite simply a nice song, with the trademark Thomas lyrics.
And now my top 5....
1.Real World '09
2.Cradlesong
3.Wonderful
4.Snowblind
5.Someday
:D oh and I'm still working on my next story. It's just the story well has been dry the past couple of weeks. But rest easy, people, it will fill up again ;)
Monday, June 22, 2009
Just had to Share
I know this is related to my stories, but I just had to share. In a way it is related to writing, which this blog is about anyway. The following link is to a video interview with Rob Thomas. But the interview is about how Rob writes his songs. Pure magic, right there. So I figured you all should see it. http://robthomaspreviews.blogspot.com/
ENJOY!!
Also I'm working on my next story, so new material will be up soon. If you haven't already read it yet, Scroll down and read "Could I be You" :D
ENJOY!!
Also I'm working on my next story, so new material will be up soon. If you haven't already read it yet, Scroll down and read "Could I be You" :D
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Could I be You?
Note: This has not been throughly edited yet, and I changed my music to the song that I based this story off of. As always, credit goes to Matchbox Twenty for writing the song, and please leave a comment or find some way to give me feedback. I can't be a better writer if I can't get feedback.
Could I Be You
Inspired by “Could I Be You” by Matchbox Twenty
He was staring at her again. She could feel it. Beth looked over her shoulder and sure enough the man was there, eyes boring a hole into her. He was a short man, not that intimidating. He could be young or he could be old, Beth never really looked. All she knew was that he would stare at her, with his hat pulled low, like he knew she wasn’t one of them.
She took off down the street, careful to keep her pace at a slow, stately walk, instead of the sprint that she wanted to do. Every once in a while she would peek back to see if he was following. He was, as always. She darted into an alley way and immediately started to run. She knew he wouldn’t follow this far; he never did.
She was out of breath by the time she arrived at Tara’s. Tara lived in an abandoned warehouse, in the Old district. There was no telling on how long it would be before Tara and Beth would be discovered. Every day, they lived in fear of being found. Other pockets of humans had been found and taken. They were never seen again.
The human race wasn’t ready for such a quick take over. The Operation was over quickly and only some people still survived, if you call hiding and scrounging surviving. Beth didn’t know where they came from, she didn’t think anybody did. One day the world was in perfect order and the next the human race was gone. At first nobody noticed. They acted human, went to work, ate, had families, everything. Except for one small detail; they had no emotion. Their eyes, devoid of any feeling, gave them away. People panicked at the thought of an alien invasion, and in that instance lost any ground they may have had. For with panic come mistakes and humans made some bad ones. The invaders called themselves Din and they took over quickly and efficiently.
The humans that were left learned that the best way to survive was to behave like the Din, no emotion whatsoever was allowed. And it worked, as long as they could keep the anger, fear, and sadness, out of their eyes. Beth’s sister, Tara, couldn’t do it. She was too emotional, and it fell to Beth to make sure that the Din never found out they were still free. Beth had perfected the blank look, locking her fear and anger inside a room deep inside her mind. She would go out walk the streets of what used to be Nashville and steal what they needed to live. But she hated it. She had to be stoic and automatic, when all she wanted to do was scream and cry.
A couple of weeks ago the man had started to stare and follow her. She didn’t tell Tara, because that might be the final straw to send Tara over the edge. She already was in a fragile state. She spent all her time in her room, pouring over pictures of disappeared family and friends, arranging and rearranging them. It broke Beth’s heart and she would do anything to protect her. But at times she just wanted to give up, let the Din take her and Tara away. At least, then she wouldn’t have to worry how to find food to eat or how to fix the generator when it next broke down.
Beth still didn’t know what to make of the man, even after a couple of weeks of seeing him. He never approached her. Just stared, and when she moved he followed until the alleyway. Every day they went through the same routine. It didn’t matter if she tried a different part of the city; he was always there. Beth sighed and walked into the warehouse.
Tara, as usual, was sitting in her room when Beth found her. She sat down the bag she was carrying and walked over to her sister.
“Hi, Tara”
Tara looked up forlornly at Beth, her huge brown eyes filled with tears. She looked back down at the picture she was gently caressing. Beth looked down to see a picture of their parents. Her dad, tall and strong, with her mother, small and petite, in his arms, filled the picture with their smiles. Beth gently took the picture from Tara and set it among the others scattered among the floor.
“Oh Tara” she took her sister into her arms, while Tara collapsed into sobs. And all the while Beth thought about giving up.
~
P4 stood in line, but his mind wasn’t on the food. He automatically moved and spoke, his face never betraying what was going behind his cold eyes. He took his assigned spot, and started eating. His mind whirled in a flurry of thoughts. P4 wasn’t used to the activity punishing his brain. The girl intrigued him. There was something different about her; he just couldn’t put his finger on it. The more he thought about it, the more confused he became. And dealing with confusion isn’t something that as a Din, he didn’t have experience with.
In fact, no Din anywhere that P4 knew of dealt with any emotion. As far back as the Din could remember emotions never once marred their minds. They were rational beings, viewing the world with the cold lens of logic. It wasn’t until they found Earth that Din encountered emotion. Humans were full of the volatile stuff. P4 remembered watching humans cry, laugh, fight, and love. As the Din watched, humans killed and loved one another in a hectic cycle. If emotions could cause that much destruction, the Din reasoned, then they were the superior race. So they had invaded. Humans were too wrapped up in their emotions, their daily dramas, to notice.
P4 took his tray up and walked out onto the street. The city used to be called Nashville and it was the center of what humans called music. All the Din understood was that music was mainly made by emotion, and what better place to start an invasion then the place with the most emotion. Soon Nashville was the epicenter for the Din.
As P4 wandered the streets, he felt his mind drifting to the girl over and over. He stopped and slapped the building in frustration. Then he froze. He stared at his hand. Something wasn’t right. P4 believed he displayed emotion. Quickly, he pulled down his hat and walked to his suite. Next time he saw the girl he would follow her. Maybe she had the answers to his troubled mind.
~
Beth saw him again. This time he was bolder, walking toward her before she had even a chance to start walking. Her eyes widened and without thinking she took off. He knew. He was coming to take her away. What would Tara do without her? Beth stopped and realized what she was doing. She would lead the Din right to her sister. Beth felt a surge of fear. She turned and took off in a different direction. They wouldn’t get her sister. Never. It didn’t matter that yesterday she wanted to give up; she couldn’t be weak for Tara’s sake. She lost herself in Nashville’s streets. But each time Beth looked back, he was always behind her.
The dead end took her by surprise. Beth whirled around, but it was already too late. He stood blocking the entrance. She thought at first she could still pass herself off as a Din, but she discarded the thought as soon as she thought it. Din didn’t take off running; they walked with even, unhurried strides. Din didn’t look wildly about for an escape; they had nothing they needed to escape from. Beth faced the man and finally let the anger and fear leak from her eyes. She was tired of running. Tired of the fear. Tired of being the brave one, the supportive one. She was tired of living her life. She was ready to give up. What she wasn’t ready for was the sound of the Din’s voice.
~
P4 stared coldly at the girl. She was human, no doubt about it with her eyes blazing. But something stirred within him, something he had never encountered before. Without thinking he asked her, “Why?”
She looked like he had shot her. Her eyes widened and a gasp escaped from her mouth.
“Why what?” she finally answered.
P4 looked at her, seeing if he could edge closer without her bolting. He needed to hear the answer.
“Why am I feeling this way?”
Beth looked at the Din. His voice wasn’t the monotone she was expecting. Instead it was soft and lilting, and there was something in it that made her want to hold him tight, reassuring him. This wasn’t how she was supposed to act, not to a Din. She was supposed to fight or give up, not feel for them. He was dressed as always in a suit, and he stood as ramrod straight as the others. His eyes were cold as ice, but there was something on the edge of them, something she needed to see.
“What are you feeling?”
The Din shook his head. “I’m a Din. I don’t feel emotion. I don’t feel anything”
“Then why did you ask me why you felt the way you do? How can I answer if I don’t know how you’re feeling?”
P4 sighed, took of his hat, and sat against the wall. His head hurt, with all these, these, feelings. The girl was right. After a moment she sat next to him. Not close, but close enough that he just felt her. He looked at her, and again he saw her jump.
Holding out his hand he said, “I’m P4, I believe this is how you humans greet one another, yes?” He cocked his head at her.
Beth laughed despite herself. She expected to be taken away and killed when she finally gave in, not sitting here laughing with a Din. It was just P4 looked like a puppy, with his huge brown eyes and his head tilted. She took his hand and was surprised that it was warm.
“Hi P4, I’m Beth.”
“Beth” he rolled her name over his tongue, savoring the sound of it. It was warm and smooth, unlike Din names. He smiled and Beth couldn’t help but smile back.
“You should do that more often.”
He looked at her in confusion. “Do what?”
“Smile” she said “You have a nice smile” She stared at him, taking in his short spiky hair, down to his brown shoes. “Do all Din look like you?”
“No, we are all different.”
“But you dress the same, walk the same, and even eat the same. How are you different?”
“We aren’t robots. We look different, have different thoughts, and prefer different things.”
“You could have fooled me,” she swept her eyes away from him, and instead stared at the wall in front of them. She fiddled with her straggly brown hair. P4 took her hand into his.
“You are so full of it”
She looked at him, confused. “Full of what?”
“Emotion. You laugh and cry. You are confused and angry. Fear. Passion. It radiates from you, bursting from every pore. You are so…alive!”
She started tracing circles around his thumb. “If you call stealing and hiding living,” she gave a small, sad laugh, “sometimes I wonder if it is even worth the trouble, living. All I have left anymore is fear.”
P4 lifted her chin. “Could I be you, then?”
“What?” she looked at him, startled.
“Ever since I saw you on the streets, there has been something inside of me. Something unfamiliar. I think if I was you, just for tonight, then maybe I can make sense of it.”
Beth looked at him. His eyes were filling with tears and she caught one on her fingertip. She looked at it in wonder and when she looked up, P4 was staring at the tear in shock.
“What is that?”
“A tear”
“It’s…beautiful isn’t it?”
“I guess it is.”
“What does it mean?”
Beth looked at P4, her green eyes suddenly full of something close to hope, “It means you can be me.”
Could I Be You
Inspired by “Could I Be You” by Matchbox Twenty
He was staring at her again. She could feel it. Beth looked over her shoulder and sure enough the man was there, eyes boring a hole into her. He was a short man, not that intimidating. He could be young or he could be old, Beth never really looked. All she knew was that he would stare at her, with his hat pulled low, like he knew she wasn’t one of them.
She took off down the street, careful to keep her pace at a slow, stately walk, instead of the sprint that she wanted to do. Every once in a while she would peek back to see if he was following. He was, as always. She darted into an alley way and immediately started to run. She knew he wouldn’t follow this far; he never did.
She was out of breath by the time she arrived at Tara’s. Tara lived in an abandoned warehouse, in the Old district. There was no telling on how long it would be before Tara and Beth would be discovered. Every day, they lived in fear of being found. Other pockets of humans had been found and taken. They were never seen again.
The human race wasn’t ready for such a quick take over. The Operation was over quickly and only some people still survived, if you call hiding and scrounging surviving. Beth didn’t know where they came from, she didn’t think anybody did. One day the world was in perfect order and the next the human race was gone. At first nobody noticed. They acted human, went to work, ate, had families, everything. Except for one small detail; they had no emotion. Their eyes, devoid of any feeling, gave them away. People panicked at the thought of an alien invasion, and in that instance lost any ground they may have had. For with panic come mistakes and humans made some bad ones. The invaders called themselves Din and they took over quickly and efficiently.
The humans that were left learned that the best way to survive was to behave like the Din, no emotion whatsoever was allowed. And it worked, as long as they could keep the anger, fear, and sadness, out of their eyes. Beth’s sister, Tara, couldn’t do it. She was too emotional, and it fell to Beth to make sure that the Din never found out they were still free. Beth had perfected the blank look, locking her fear and anger inside a room deep inside her mind. She would go out walk the streets of what used to be Nashville and steal what they needed to live. But she hated it. She had to be stoic and automatic, when all she wanted to do was scream and cry.
A couple of weeks ago the man had started to stare and follow her. She didn’t tell Tara, because that might be the final straw to send Tara over the edge. She already was in a fragile state. She spent all her time in her room, pouring over pictures of disappeared family and friends, arranging and rearranging them. It broke Beth’s heart and she would do anything to protect her. But at times she just wanted to give up, let the Din take her and Tara away. At least, then she wouldn’t have to worry how to find food to eat or how to fix the generator when it next broke down.
Beth still didn’t know what to make of the man, even after a couple of weeks of seeing him. He never approached her. Just stared, and when she moved he followed until the alleyway. Every day they went through the same routine. It didn’t matter if she tried a different part of the city; he was always there. Beth sighed and walked into the warehouse.
Tara, as usual, was sitting in her room when Beth found her. She sat down the bag she was carrying and walked over to her sister.
“Hi, Tara”
Tara looked up forlornly at Beth, her huge brown eyes filled with tears. She looked back down at the picture she was gently caressing. Beth looked down to see a picture of their parents. Her dad, tall and strong, with her mother, small and petite, in his arms, filled the picture with their smiles. Beth gently took the picture from Tara and set it among the others scattered among the floor.
“Oh Tara” she took her sister into her arms, while Tara collapsed into sobs. And all the while Beth thought about giving up.
~
P4 stood in line, but his mind wasn’t on the food. He automatically moved and spoke, his face never betraying what was going behind his cold eyes. He took his assigned spot, and started eating. His mind whirled in a flurry of thoughts. P4 wasn’t used to the activity punishing his brain. The girl intrigued him. There was something different about her; he just couldn’t put his finger on it. The more he thought about it, the more confused he became. And dealing with confusion isn’t something that as a Din, he didn’t have experience with.
In fact, no Din anywhere that P4 knew of dealt with any emotion. As far back as the Din could remember emotions never once marred their minds. They were rational beings, viewing the world with the cold lens of logic. It wasn’t until they found Earth that Din encountered emotion. Humans were full of the volatile stuff. P4 remembered watching humans cry, laugh, fight, and love. As the Din watched, humans killed and loved one another in a hectic cycle. If emotions could cause that much destruction, the Din reasoned, then they were the superior race. So they had invaded. Humans were too wrapped up in their emotions, their daily dramas, to notice.
P4 took his tray up and walked out onto the street. The city used to be called Nashville and it was the center of what humans called music. All the Din understood was that music was mainly made by emotion, and what better place to start an invasion then the place with the most emotion. Soon Nashville was the epicenter for the Din.
As P4 wandered the streets, he felt his mind drifting to the girl over and over. He stopped and slapped the building in frustration. Then he froze. He stared at his hand. Something wasn’t right. P4 believed he displayed emotion. Quickly, he pulled down his hat and walked to his suite. Next time he saw the girl he would follow her. Maybe she had the answers to his troubled mind.
~
Beth saw him again. This time he was bolder, walking toward her before she had even a chance to start walking. Her eyes widened and without thinking she took off. He knew. He was coming to take her away. What would Tara do without her? Beth stopped and realized what she was doing. She would lead the Din right to her sister. Beth felt a surge of fear. She turned and took off in a different direction. They wouldn’t get her sister. Never. It didn’t matter that yesterday she wanted to give up; she couldn’t be weak for Tara’s sake. She lost herself in Nashville’s streets. But each time Beth looked back, he was always behind her.
The dead end took her by surprise. Beth whirled around, but it was already too late. He stood blocking the entrance. She thought at first she could still pass herself off as a Din, but she discarded the thought as soon as she thought it. Din didn’t take off running; they walked with even, unhurried strides. Din didn’t look wildly about for an escape; they had nothing they needed to escape from. Beth faced the man and finally let the anger and fear leak from her eyes. She was tired of running. Tired of the fear. Tired of being the brave one, the supportive one. She was tired of living her life. She was ready to give up. What she wasn’t ready for was the sound of the Din’s voice.
~
P4 stared coldly at the girl. She was human, no doubt about it with her eyes blazing. But something stirred within him, something he had never encountered before. Without thinking he asked her, “Why?”
She looked like he had shot her. Her eyes widened and a gasp escaped from her mouth.
“Why what?” she finally answered.
P4 looked at her, seeing if he could edge closer without her bolting. He needed to hear the answer.
“Why am I feeling this way?”
Beth looked at the Din. His voice wasn’t the monotone she was expecting. Instead it was soft and lilting, and there was something in it that made her want to hold him tight, reassuring him. This wasn’t how she was supposed to act, not to a Din. She was supposed to fight or give up, not feel for them. He was dressed as always in a suit, and he stood as ramrod straight as the others. His eyes were cold as ice, but there was something on the edge of them, something she needed to see.
“What are you feeling?”
The Din shook his head. “I’m a Din. I don’t feel emotion. I don’t feel anything”
“Then why did you ask me why you felt the way you do? How can I answer if I don’t know how you’re feeling?”
P4 sighed, took of his hat, and sat against the wall. His head hurt, with all these, these, feelings. The girl was right. After a moment she sat next to him. Not close, but close enough that he just felt her. He looked at her, and again he saw her jump.
Holding out his hand he said, “I’m P4, I believe this is how you humans greet one another, yes?” He cocked his head at her.
Beth laughed despite herself. She expected to be taken away and killed when she finally gave in, not sitting here laughing with a Din. It was just P4 looked like a puppy, with his huge brown eyes and his head tilted. She took his hand and was surprised that it was warm.
“Hi P4, I’m Beth.”
“Beth” he rolled her name over his tongue, savoring the sound of it. It was warm and smooth, unlike Din names. He smiled and Beth couldn’t help but smile back.
“You should do that more often.”
He looked at her in confusion. “Do what?”
“Smile” she said “You have a nice smile” She stared at him, taking in his short spiky hair, down to his brown shoes. “Do all Din look like you?”
“No, we are all different.”
“But you dress the same, walk the same, and even eat the same. How are you different?”
“We aren’t robots. We look different, have different thoughts, and prefer different things.”
“You could have fooled me,” she swept her eyes away from him, and instead stared at the wall in front of them. She fiddled with her straggly brown hair. P4 took her hand into his.
“You are so full of it”
She looked at him, confused. “Full of what?”
“Emotion. You laugh and cry. You are confused and angry. Fear. Passion. It radiates from you, bursting from every pore. You are so…alive!”
She started tracing circles around his thumb. “If you call stealing and hiding living,” she gave a small, sad laugh, “sometimes I wonder if it is even worth the trouble, living. All I have left anymore is fear.”
P4 lifted her chin. “Could I be you, then?”
“What?” she looked at him, startled.
“Ever since I saw you on the streets, there has been something inside of me. Something unfamiliar. I think if I was you, just for tonight, then maybe I can make sense of it.”
Beth looked at him. His eyes were filling with tears and she caught one on her fingertip. She looked at it in wonder and when she looked up, P4 was staring at the tear in shock.
“What is that?”
“A tear”
“It’s…beautiful isn’t it?”
“I guess it is.”
“What does it mean?”
Beth looked at P4, her green eyes suddenly full of something close to hope, “It means you can be me.”
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