Finals week

 
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Winter has finally come to Sandy! A bit too little too late but that’s besides the point. WE HAVE SNOW!…Kind of… not anymore. Well it was fun while it lasted. But on to our topic.

So today’s post will be a bit different, it’s going out to all you students, middle school, high school, college or otherwise. I’m currently in the midst of finals week and thought that it might be fun to read you all in (aka. fill you in) on the topic for my last essay: The Starvation of the Mind.

A little pretentious I know, but it’s the truth.

All my life I have hungered after one thing; knowledge. Why is the sky blue? How do we know that’s true? What moves the waves or makes the sunlight warm? I believe that knowledge is something we all hunger after, whether we know it or not. We have millions of supposedly inconsequential questions circling through our minds on a daily bases. We are starving for knowledge, but when presented with the opportunity to learn we often shut off our enthusiasm for the unknown.

We live in an age where ease and availability have become the masters of our subconscious. Every random fact or pithy quote we were looking for pops up on our screen, ripe for the plucking. Google is making everything possible, and that’s not a bad thing! However, we students have a tendency to rely on it for those quick fixes. Its so much faster and easier to just do a quick Google search and BAM! the answer is right there. So then why is it that in an age of ease we don’t do more to learn?

I didn’t grow up with Siri or the internet, so unlike now I couldn’t just google what something meant, I had to go find it. I would search through encyclopedias, thesaurus’, dictionaries, scientific papers, and library databases just to find the answer to my question. Whether I was looking for the meaning of a word or the significance of a historical character, I worked hard to find the answer. Why? Because I was curious.

Curiosity has been the backbone of discovery since the dawn of time. How do birds fly? What’s beneath the water? Why are all these people getting sick? Throughout history questions have produced answers. So what happens when all the answers are at our fingertips? Complacency. We no longer have to put in any effort to receive an answer. The answer to every question we could ever ask is served to us on a silver platter, exactly how we want it. Maybe that’s the problem. Google’s creators, Sergey Brin and Larry Page, have proclaimed that they want “[to create] the perfect search engine, one that understands exactly what you mean and gives you back exactly what you want.”

Did you catch the “exactly what we want” part? How many people do you know that want to be contradicted? How many people do you know who want their beliefs disproven? If Google is giving us exactly what we want then how do we know that what they’re saying is the truth and not just another view of the facts through our tinted lens?

The answer: We don’t.

Unless we go out of our way to research contradicting point’s of view, we have almost no way of knowing if those “facts” we just read on the internet are, in fact, true.

We find our facts with the click of a button and never bother to check who wrote them. Why would it matter, its just an answer, right? We use the likes of Wikipedia for overviews of “Who was John Paul Jones?” “When did WW2 start?” and “Why is Ukraine at war with Russia?” with no idea of what the author actually knows. Wikipedia itself warns against blindly trusting it’s information, saying that “Wikipedia has been criticized for exhibiting systemic bias, for presenting a mixture of "truths, half-truths, and some falsehoods," and for being subject to manipulation and spin in controversial topics.” If they’re warning you about themselves, you know it must be bad.

Unfortunately, we bury our thirst for truth under deadlines and due dates, terrified that if we miss one thing that we will fall too far behind to ever catch up. Our lives have turned into a mechanical mirage of merely repeating information we’ve been told and then forgetting it all in an instant to be able to keep up with the overwhelming flow of homework and other daily activities. Why has it become so common for us to discount the importance of learning and of desiring that knowledge? We are no more then copy-cats, faking our way through school until someone hands us a diploma and we’re home free. LEARNING IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE THIS WAY.

I have two younger cousins who live next door, the oldest just turned 9 and the youngest is 5. Despite my own love of learning, I have warned them time and time again that they will hate school, that learning boring. And suddenly I am seeing that my words are making an impact.

These little boys idolize me. I’m “cool” to them. And yet suddenly my words, the ones I spoke out of frustration or in jest, are wreaking havoc on their love of learning. The boys who once asked me the meaning of the word “anaphylactic” before they even knew how to pronounce it, or wanted to learn about imaginary numbers before they started preschool, now balk at the idea of learning anything outside of the classroom. To them, learning has become a chore. All I ever wanted was for my cousins to love learning and to be excited about whatever opportunities cross their path. Unfortunately, I see in them the complacency that plagues so many of us. It doesn’t matter what the answer is as long as we get the work done and turn it in. We have been taught to simply regurgitate the “facts” shoved down our throat and then move on. This has produced disastrous consequences.

We no longer care about the credentials of those who wrote the article, only that it aligns with our own beliefs, further strengthening our resolve in whatever preconceived idea we hold. Facts are not things that we should take someone else’s word on. They’re not directions to a well-known restaurant or memorizing the speed limit on a sign. Facts are things we check, we read about. Facts are not infallible. They are flawed and messy and If that is something that we don’t understand then the misapplication of facts or even socially skewed facts can turn us down a road that is harmful to us and those who come after us. Google is not God. It doesn’t know what is true and what is false.

If we let our hunger for knowledge be suppressed by the ease of Google, we suffer for it. Using a calculator instead of paper, Google instead of a Thesaurus, Facebook instead of a Newspaper, each and every choice we make affects our outlook on the world. We are constantly bombarded with half-truths and skewed facts, but it is how we scrutinize the sources we receive them from that will allow us to see clearly through the fog of uncertainty. We can’t afford to allow our discernment to be clouded by a false sense of security. We have an incredible opportunity to learn, a gift that many are denied. We have access to library databases, articles from respected journalists or renown scientists, and sometimes even access to the authors themselves!

Now I am in no way saying that Google is bad, but it is deceitful. Those library databases take way less time then thumbing through endless links to find the right thing, and you know that they’re reliable because they’ve been checked by those who have a desire for the truth. So guys don’t shut off your hunger for the truth. Don’t let deadlines and the incessant onslaught of information deter you from looking deeper into the facts you find on Google. Go to the libraries, email the authors, and search deeper into the facts.

Wishing you all a relaxing and non-stressful finals week.

Namárie,

~Vira

So that we may not simply survive, but that we may live.

 
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Do you guys remember awhile back when Thane interviewed me? Well in that post Thane and I discussed the atrocities of my attempts at writing poetry. Well we recently discovered that, contrary to previous beliefs, when I am upset enough my poetry isn’t half bad. So, partially as an apology for my absence of late, and partially because I feel like the message they contain is important, here are my most recent poems.

(Some of you who frequent my site may have already stumbled across them, if not here they are! All poems are also on the Writing Snippets page)

~~~~~

I Am Not Pretty

I am not pretty. I am not a purple pansy who shivers at the cold nor a monarch butterfly painted with gold. I am not a summers breeze or a friend who fills your mind with ease. You mistake me for a doll, smile always on my lips. A glorious apparition filled with helpful tips. I am not a giggle or the rustling or the leaves. I am not pretty, for that is only what the eye sees.

You mistake me sir, for this is not about my looks. It is simply an observation, like counting pebbles in a brook. My appearance has nothing on my mind, a beautiful creation that only a loving God could design.

I said I am not pretty, for that is right don’t you see? But I am beautiful, beautiful as the raging of the sea. I am the crashing of the waves the anger of the wind. I am beautiful and tragic, I am cruel but I am kind. I am not a gentle breeze I say but I am cold and I am sharp. I am the the beating of war drums not a melancholy harp. I am beautiful like the ice that shimmers in the sun. But I will cut you in an instant, and you will not be the only one.

So listen closely my friend. Read until the end. For I am not pretty which is a fact you like to ignore. However I am beautiful, beautiful as a war. 

~~~~~

Lonely Forgotten Place

There is a long forgotten place, a place I like to hide. Come along with me, for I will be your guide.

It’s far away, deep within the recesses of my mind. Come along with me, for in there you are blind.

It’s a lonely open space, with daisies in a field. It is not a weapon, not a thing that I can wield. It is, perhaps, a cage.
It protects against the wars I wage.
Yet sometimes I become afraid,
Sometimes I do not wish that I had stayed.
One day the doors may swing closed, and I will be left forever enclosed within these walls that threaten to keep me in.
As I shout “but there is a war yet to win!”
I am afraid my friend, for all good things must come to an end.

And how much more do I deserve this fate, then that man there, standing at the gate?
My anger burns against this man you see?
For I thought he was good, but oh he wounded me.

I do not blame him, or at least so I say.
But my own jealous flame that I tended to each day.

I was selfish, don’t you see?
I was selfish, little ole me.

Why is it that one so broken and so bruised, is the one that is so often refused? “I didn’t even ask him!” I scream out with a roar. I didn’t even ask him, and yet I wanted something more.

I built this cage all on my own. I lined it’s walls with spikes. So why do I bemoan my misfortune when it decides to strike?

I am a lonely little girl, within her walls of stone.

I am a lonely little girl, sitting all alone.


~~~~~

The Fae and Her Fee

Not long enough ago, just too far away, there lived a young fae. Or at least so they say.

Now this Fae wasn’t sweet nor was she kind. She was small and petite, she played tricks on your mind. She’d ask for your name, and give you two cents. You’d think it a game and barter three pence. She’d ask for your name with a gleam in her eye. You’d give her your last, and ask for more pie.

For Fae food is legendary oh don’t you see? So she would say yes, but for a small fee. And you would consider, such the fool that you are. What more could she want, you to lasso a star? She smiled and laughed and giggled along, you never suspected that you might be wrong. But finally she told you her small little fee. She wanted a key, not so big around. She wanted the key that opened the town.

You foolish boy, didn’t you hear? A Fae’s favorite part is having you near. You tasted her food, you gave her your name. You gave her an non-refutable claim. She owns you now, you must do as she says. It’s over now boy, you ruined it all. It’s over now boy, your city will fall.

~~~~~

Lover of the Sea

A little girl stands upon on a hill,
Her skin exposed to the cruel wind’s chill. Her eyes uplifted to the grey horizon, she waits and watches the sea men die in.

For a hundred years she has stood alone, waiting for the man she called her own.
For once upon a time he promised, long ago when the sea was calmest, that he would return to her one day. But then that poor boy sailed away.

So she waits and so she stands,
His beating heart still in her hands, and so she watches the stormy horizon. So she watches the sea men die in.
Her prayers have always been for naught, for that same night his ship was caught. It sank in the swells and sunk down to the deep. And there her lover lays forever asleep.

Take caution from this tale, you girls who love the sea. Take caution from this tale, or you will be just like me.

For I am the girl alone in the hill. I am the girl whose stubborn will has not allowed me solace. For somewhere in a world so flawless, my lover once came home.
My lover would return from the foam, from somewhere tragic he once did roam.

~~~~~

Bleeding heart

I am tired of being a bleeding heart,
Pouring out my soul with every word.
With each injustice my logic does depart, 
My righteous anger forever stirred. 
Battle after battle, all the wars I wage.
Battle after battle, my blood and tears combine.

Bloody and vicious as the middle age. 
They say sour fruit stems from a sour vine. 
I stand up and scream, with froth on my lips, Anger burning beneath my porcelain skin “Viva lé revolution. Shatter the chains. Break the whips”
The longer we wait my patience wears thin.

They say that if you want peace prepare for war, Haven’t enough injustices been done? So then what reasons are we waiting for? Til we die at the wrong end of a gun? 

I am tired of fighting for those who give up so soon. Those who leave their dreams untouched. So do not wake me til the clock strikes noon, or to your weapons feebly clutch. 

For demons do not dance at dawn, 
But in the darkness of the night. 
And we soldiers, we must carry on. 
We soldiers must prepare the fight. 

But I am tired of the blood, I am tired of the pain. I am tired of the flower’s wilting bud. 
We, my friends, are trapped in a hurricane. From which I can not see an escape. So let us lay and sleep my friend,
As the coming dangers take shape. 
Let us lay and sleep until the world we must defend.

~~~~~

Kintsukori


I am but a piece of broken pottery, stitched together with gold.
I am not a wizard ancient, nor a hero long foretold.
I am but a lowly peasant, chained within my humble abode.
A missed opportunity, a prince within a toad.
The waters of my tears grow stagnant, my complaints forever old.
I do not own a sword or a treasury of shimmering gold.
I attempt to say that I’m content within this life I live.
Moving ever onward, so much effort left to give.
My dreams grow ever grander, they take flight before my eyes.
Yet somehow I still hope that with them I may rise.
But then life reminds me of what I have been told.
I am just a piece of pottery whose cracks are filled with gold.

~~~~~

Each and every one of these poems (except perhaps for the Fae and Her Fee) I have written when I’m going through a really really bad hour, day, or week. In fact this last one, Kintsukori, I wrote last Sunday after a two+ hours long breakdown over some math homework that exploded into lies running through my head about how inadequate of a person I am. Kintsukori, also known as Kintsugi, is the Japanese art of repairing something broken with resin and gold powder. In essence this poem was my desperate attempt to remind myself that I don’t have to be a hero to be worth something. That I don’t have to achieve my every wild dream to be happy. And yes, each of these poems are rather depressing, but they are all cries from my heart. I’m putting these out there for you today because I want you to know that other people struggle too. And that no matter what you are going through that there will always be a light at the end of the tunnel, and there will always be people ready and willing to listen. If any of you ever need to talk I am MORE THEN WILLING to stay up all night and talk to you. Maybe you just need to rant, or maybe you need advice, maybe even just a friend. I am here for you, God is here for you, YOU ARE NOT ALONE. Please please please never hesitate to ask for help. It is not a sign of weakness, it just means that you’ve had to be strong for too long, and that’s ok. You are not called to be Atlas, you can put down the world once and awhile. There are people who want to come alongside you and help you carry your burdens.

I’ll close this out with one of my favorite sayings:

“Tomorrow will be a better day”

“And if it’s not?”

“Then I’ll say it again.”

No matter who you are, no matter what your situation. You are seen, you are heard, and you are loved.

Namárië,

~V

 

Interview with the hilarious, quirky, and oh-so-amazing Fiona Pt 2

 
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And Fiona’s back!!!! Here’s part 2 of our interview with more in-depth and detailed answers that’ll really give you a peak into who she is as an author. Enjoy!


 

Continuation of the question:

What is your least favorite thing about writing?

Fiona: I guess what I hate about writing is when it doesn't feel like it's supposed to. I love inspiring emotions. That's the only reason I even share my writing with you two, is because I want to see that I have inspired emotion in you guys somehow. Whether it's a "NO! You can't do that to that character" to an "I love this so much!!!". You know, I want to inspire revolution, I want to break your hearts, or-

Thane: You do that often.

Fiona: Oh. Okay. Good. 


At this point, we got a little off track. Which I must say we did very good considering it was somewhere between 1am and 4am at this time. Perfect interviewing time, right? 

 To summarize, we talked about sharing our writing with each other more. Discussing how, when you send a scene, you know what response you want, and so do the others because they have sent writing before also, and so you send what you know they want to hear. Vira mentioned how she sandwiches, good, bad, good. Which honestly is the easy, good way to do it oftentimes. But also if they ask for critique afterward you have to kinda flip a switch in your head, I mentioned, because at first you read it as the reader, but then you have to read it as a writer. 


Fiona ended our sidetrack on a good note: So yes. I write to inspire emotion. And, when I can't, I hate that. I don't do in between or filler scenes very well. It has to mean something.

Vira: *whispering* No one does filler scenes well. Except for Avatar the Last Airbender. 

Thane: Yeah. Filler scenes are hard. Because me, I like scenes with dialogue. I am not good with action scenes (hahaha. Fun for you the books you decided to write are fantasy with WAR and ACTION alll the time.) I want there to be dialogue, and I want it to be powerful dialogue. But you can't have every scene be them confessing a huge secret or baring their soul to the other person because real people don't do that often. But that's what I wanna Write!!!! I want to write these stories where people are brutally honest. And they might be messed up, but they're trying- they're saying what's true to them even though it's not true to who they want to be. Or like- it's- It's real, and it's brutal. That's what I wanna write, and you can't do that, and that's what's frustrating about writing. There's more to it than what you want to do. 

Fiona: One thing I'm envious about [Thane and Vira's] relationship is that you write the same series together, and you guys can dialogue things together, back and forth. And I don't have someone to dialogue with. 

What is one piece of advice you have for other writers?

 Fiona: Write the stupid thing. You're gonna hate it. Write it anyway. 

Thane: I like that. 

Vira: Yup. 

What writer friends do you have and how have they helped you become a better writer? 

 Fiona: Well in a lot of ways I have learned from you guys. You go back and forth and argue over so much and get- I spend a good portion of that being really confused because I think "Oh wait this is Zalo, I know who Zalo it. Oh, apparently I don't. Never mind." And as that builds and gets more confusing because your story is very different now than it was when you were playing it when we were 11. So, Ah yeah. You guys. I didn't have any other writer friends. And even then, you guys weren't very big on sharing your writing with me until recently. So I kinda just figured it out myself unless you consider authors from a hundred and 20 years ago your friends? I swear I had a crush on Arthur Conan Doyle for a few days. No. Actually a couple months. 

*Vira and Fiona fangirl about him and Sherlock for a few minutes* 

What was an early experience you had where you learned that language had power?

Thane: This is the last question I have written. Not everyone has an answer to this, but it's fun to ask. What was an early experience you had where you learned that language had power? That words had power. 

Fiona: I was a very ironic kid. I would say the weirdest things. At the weirdest times. And apparently, they had impact. I was also very oblivious. That has not changed. So, one of the things we have on tape is 30 minutes after my sister was born, they were bathing her, and she was not impressed. So, she had a temper as a baby, so she was screaming because she didn't like it. So I in all my two and a half-year-old maturity stomped up to the nurse, crossed my little arms across my little chest and said: "What is wrong with my [sisters name]?" And I can't live this down because it is on camera. And I decided right in that moment I would claim her, and I did. And have for the rest of her life, she's kinda mine.

 And I guess from how people would react when I'd say things because I was also very quiet and serious for most of it. Except when I was with friends, with friends I was funny because I wanted to be liked and I liked funny. So I was very quiet and introspective, and when I did say something, usually it would be something I had been thinking about. And It caused reactions from people around me. I'd say something, and it would make perfect sense to me, and the adults around me would go "Whoa..." or "Wait a second." or even sometimes just burst out laughing. And I loved getting reactions to things.

You know, as the oldest child there wasn't a lot of attention directed my way and some parts of my life that was really really tough and some parts it was, I don't know, I got used to it, it doesn't bother me anymore because it's my sister, it should go to her because she's my sister, and that's her job. And this is my job. So when I figured out words do have power, I was able to use that to my advantage. I've learned what to say, to whom, and how to inspire that reaction in people. 

Thane: So interesting. This question ended up- we got the answer of what- *stumbles through three more sentences she's unable to finish* Like it also explained your answer to the question of "Your least favorite part of writing." 

Fiona: I write for emotion. 

Thane: Yeah! And you just explained why that's so important to you as a writer in answer to this. And that was just kinda... Mind-blowing. That that's... Why you write the way you do, and why it's important to you 

 Fiona: Somewhere along the way I got it in my head from one of my parent's reactions to probably a movie or something that extreme emotion wasn't a good thing. You know that teenage girls getting dramatic over a boy was foolish and silly and not worth the time to think about or to consider or to, oh your latest boyfriend, third one of the week, broke up with you, the horror! Let me comfort you. It was just stupid. So I just didn't. I decided if emotion wasn't that big of a deal I just won't bother. So when I could get a reaction out of someone, intentionally, that I could inspire emotion in someone else- I guess I didn't put that right.

I guess I didn't bother with emotion because it never got me the reaction I wanted. Just being emotional didn't get me attention. It didn't work like that. So when I figured out how to inspire emotion in other people, I figured out how my words could attract the attention that I was seeking. And I figured out that at like four years old, that what I wanted was attention, and I figured out why I was wanting it, and how much I was getting in reference to my sister, and when, and why. I picked up on that really early. And when I figured out that words could get me what I was wanting, then I figured out how to use them to get that. And I guess that I've been chasing that most of my entire life. That being able to cause a reaction in someone. I don't know, it's kinda intoxicating honestly. It's something I have always enjoyed. Having a certain amount of power over them, but less about the power over them and more the ability to make them feel something.

I mean, that's why we watch television, isn't it? The shows, that's why we read the books. It's because we're looking for those emotional connections and emotional highs that we don't get, especially in this technological age- how you stay connected, but so far apart. That, you know, when you have the reaction with a conversation sitting face to face there isn't even a phone present in the room. That never happens. Ever. But we still seek the emotional connection that we would get from that because we are human beings and we need it. So, once I figured out how to inspire emotion, I figured out how to provide an emotional connection for others and show them exactly what it was that they were missing..... That got really deep really fast.


 

And that’s it folks! It was so much fun getting to interview Fiona, and we hope you enjoyed it as much as we did. If you have any other questions for Fiona, Thane, or I please shoot us a message or comment on a post. We love hearing from all of you!

Namárië,

~V