(This is a thread from Mizahar's fantasy role playing forums. Why don't you register today? This message is not shown when you are logged in. Come roleplay with us, it's fun!)
The player scrapbooks forum is literally a place for writers to warm-up, brainstorm, keep little scraps of notes, or just post things to encourage themselves and each other. Each player can feel free to create their own thread - one per account - and use them accordingly.
I think I've decided it's time to crank out the jams once again. I have been busy with many different things lately. It's nothing I can't handle, rarely anything important at all actually, but I still have been busy. That doesn't mean there can't be music though!
Personally I think music adds a better mood to any situation whether it be doing chores around the house, running outside or doing your homework. It's always wonderful and makes you not feel lonely.
More to come, but for now (after editing all my posts to a new template) I think I shall go and write. That or post some more fun things in this scrapbook!
The time has come yet again to try to make a better attempt at keeping these scrapbook postings regular. And today, I have for you a very cute reminder to stay happy and eat bananas!
I don't know about all of you guys, but I am amped up and awaiting for summer to strike. I have so many plans and plots stuck on my brain and I cannot wait to spill them out in threads. A huge, drastic, obscene almost personality change will erupt in my character and I really cannot wait to portray how it will all come about. For now, however, enjoy my bunny and I hope to see you all soon!
And that one is eating a banana. Oh my gosh. Are you trying to burst my heart from all its cuteness? I love it! I am also happily awaiting summer. Hopefully it will either allow me to flesh out my characters to the max and get to really dig into them, or help me get a job (or both!). Can't wait to see what changes Lenz goes through. Keep us updated!
*praises Shi by giving cookie* You m'dear are one of the first people (besides Radi) to post in my scrapbook. You should feel proud!
I will certainly keep updates and the like- as should you! I'd love to see what happens to your character this coming summer. But, oh, can't you not wait? It's always utterly wonderful to have something to look forward to. This summer, to me, is like Christmas. I cannot wait to open the presidents. I am also excited about this NaJu thing that is going to kick off. Since I am normally bombarded with school and all, I usually cannot write all that much for NaNo. I just wish there were official medals for this June competition. I have high hopes to see how many words I can achieve!
I've always had a large heart for my character. I cannot recall the moment I stumble across the model I used to portray Lenz, but when I did I knew it would be her. Her stunning, vivid and vibrant hair, the colour like the scarlet of blood; her intense, yet calming green-brown eyes, however not hazel; her fair tones face devoid of flaws or freckles; her figure, her physic and the way she spoke. I loved everything about my model, so I rummage through the internet and scrounged around until I was able to come up with over fifty pictures of the same model.
However, today I won't show you more pictures of the real life model. Instead, I will toss around various images drawn or painted of which I have found and edited. These remind me of Lenz very much.
Lenz Profiles :
With that being said and shown, I hope to all whom are threading with me will bear in mind her appearance with more clarity.
I have known this friend for as long as I could remember. The two of us were literally inseparable. We would come over to each other’s’ houses and draw or watch movies or play games and we would ride our bikes together and venture out in the wilderness behind her backyard. We had a blast with one another. Spirit sisters or whatever their called- that is what we were. But then junior high came around and our relationship grew apart. The strings that held us meshed together were slowly wearing out, threatening to be cut. I didn’t want to dangle on a line of thread with an end, so I approached my friend. She was acting strange lately, avoiding contact with me and shutting people out. I asked her if she had any problems at home and her immediate response was a simple shake of the head and to walk away. I grew wary of her and her presence in classes. We still hung out with each other over the weekends, but each and every time, things seemed to get more awkward and quiet.
Suddenly junior high passed by and the first year of high school came around. She had made a few more friends and I was still stuck without any besides her. All my life I have had a challenge with social interaction. I find it challenging and very difficult to make friends and much less keep them, therefore when I have crafted a friendship between someone, I try my hardest to not let it dwindle away and wither into nothingness. This was how my friendship with that friend was going. The outcome looked bleak in my eyes, so I tended to the issues and confronted her again. I admit I was a little more forceful, demands being thrown some ways, but I was concerned, angry and a little sorrowful that a friend was leaving me, dropping me off like I was an unwanted child. I didn’t want to be swaddled in blankets and left at a stranger’s doorstep. I wanted to be nurtured by love, affection, structured relationship. This friend of mine was becoming closer of a friend than I could ever have imaged. Each and every day she slipped through my fingers, I craved her attention more and more.
Finally, that day I confronted her, I knew I had lost her for good. She was with her friends- they were standing behind her in a passive aggressive manner and I was partially frightened by their being there, but I remained my ground. I accused her of her wrong doing. ‘You can’t just block someone out without telling them what they did wrong. What did I do to you?’ I remember asking her. I do not recall her response, but I do remember her shunning me, turning back to her friends and leaving me in the dust behind her.
A few weeks went by and then an entire month without a call, a text or a wave from the times I was able to spot her in the crowd of wherever it was I was at. Then, abruptly one night, late into the night, soon to be morning, I received a text from this friend. It was a plea, a cry for help. I know knew all the answers I had been dying to hear spoken from her lips. Those friends she had made were suffering like she was. Their appearance, their body language, their offensive words all shouted at me the trouble they were in. They were troubled, and then had welcomed my friend whom was troubled as well into their small group.
I would like to create a brief transition here for a moment. I want you to know a little more about me before I jump back into knowing more about my friend and our connection after this text. A few years back I was suffering from panic attacks. These panic attacks would strike me during random times of the day. One time I was at the mall, one of the largest malls I have ever seen. I was walking through the hallways, my eyes hovering over everybody I noticed until I sudden couldn’t feel myself. I touched my arm and it wasn’t necessarily numb, but more as if I was in another dimension. It felt like I was hovering over my body, watching myself do things I had no control over. This panic attack has been closely related to Depersonalization Disorder, or so my doctor told me. I was fretting to such an extent that I began to sob in the middle of the mall’s hallway. A mall cop approached me and asked me what the issue was, but I only ignored him and cowered closer to my father. To any cop, this reaction would seem a tad bit suspicious and he proved his suspicion with a wary eye. It wasn’t a kidnapping, though. He was my father and he escorted me out so that we could return home.
I went to the doctors a few days after were I was given medication and relieved to return home. Many months passed, but I began to suffer again, however, this time it wasn’t due to these strange panic episodes. It was something deeper, darker than this. My anxiety was increasing, but another emotion started to rise from the depths of my subconscious. My mother took notice of the marks on my body during a physical examination taken prior to a surgery I had to attend a few days after. This was when she encouraged I find help. Therapists. They are indifferent and weird, aren’t they? They sit on their pretty, lavishing sofas with a journal and a pencil in their hands and they listen to the words you have to say. The therapist I went to see was nonetheless similar. I told her what I was feeling and she jotted it down. Generalized anxiety disorder with depressive symptoms. How fun did that sound? But it was a tale I am hopeful to explain and am willing to share. I have been doing well ever since that time and I have progressed with my emotions and what not. I have found outlets and the like and I have also been more open with how I feel to both my parents and my friends (the ones I still have that is).
Now, after my digression, I would like to resume the story of my relationship with my friend. The text. She had texted me close to one in the morning, asking for my help. It wasn’t like those texts someone receives from classmates who need assistance with homework. No, this was entirely different. I could hear her words as if she was in the room with me, pleading for help. I asked her what was the matter. I was still angry with her, enraged actually, but after reading her words over and over again, my senses dulled and my concern and worry for her sanity and sake grew.
She told me she was feeling low. Now, I really don’t feel up to getting into the details, but when I say low I do not mean she feels sad because she broke up with her boyfriend or because her goldfish died. She was feeling low as in this world is too hard and I am not worthy to live in it. This was my cue to step into action. I raced to dial her number and once she finally answered, I spewed out gossip, I wove tales to share with her. I tried my best to take her mind off of her current issues. She spilled her feelings and how morbid they were and I listened. I am not one to but in and explain my situation.
No one knows how someone else feels. It aggravates me and frustrates me so much to see other people sympathize with someone else by saying, “I know what you mean. I know how you feel. Oh, but I’ve been there.” But you haven’t. No one can feel the same as the next person, for we all have different pain tolerances. I understand if this is the first thing that comes to someone’s mind when trying to comfort the pained, but to those who are hurting, it is not what they really want to hear. I have been there and I must say it only made me sadder.
My friend who was still on the phone continued to talk and talk, until it was past witching hour. I listened and listened before changing the subject entirely. I did not want to provoke any irrational decisions on her part, but I was merely curious. I asked her how it all started. I asked her why she left me, but I also included the understanding as to why she might. I could have been a reminder of happiness. This was something that has gotten me down many times. Memories of happy or pleasing times coming back to haunt me. They simply remind me of events of which I cannot return to. I can always try to recreate them, but they will never be the same.
I don’t mean to sound like a severely pessimistic person, and I really do not appreciate any hateful or flaming messages in response to this little story, but this is me simply getting important things off my chest. I know this is not the place to do it; I know many people don’t really care about the things that happen to people because humanity is just that way, but to me, this is like a little journal. This is something I can dump the rubbish that plasters itself to my chest, and I will take this advantage and I will use it to the best of my ability.
My friend- she was crying. She was shouting at me, but not in a vexing way. She was apologizing and again, it was my cue to step in and explain to her that nothing was her fault. When someone feels sorry for someone and begins to apologize, it is safe to say that they must be feeling mournful for themselves, blaming themselves for the occurrence of certain situations. This, however, is never the case. I told her that a portion was my fault, but I did not tell her that none of it was her fault.
Now, this might sound selfish or degrading or whatever you wish to call it, but it is a process of coping of which I had learned from teaching. I told her that humans make mistakes, that the only way we can strive to prosper is by beating ourselves up after throwing ourselves into the tornado of curiosity. I told her that it will be her fault many times over again, but that she will always have someone to help back her up or pick up the pieces. The only way to get back up again is to fall first. There was a more elaborate speech I had told her, and in the end she wasn’t crying anymore. It was four in the morning. She portrayed her gratitude, told me that she was feeling better and that she wished to see me tomorrow. This was enough to satisfy me. She would see me tomorrow. That meant that she would still be around to see another day. That meant that I had saved someone’s life.
And that was an adventure I would never forget.
So to all those out there who think life has gotten too hard or who might feel as if life is a waste of time and that the world could do better without you, just remember that there is someone who is always waiting for you. There is always someone who needs you in their life. We depend upon one another whether we like it or not. It might seem like the best alternative at the moment, but I will assure you, from personal experience, that it is not. Stay strong, lovelies.
So I am normally not a person to have an interest in novels relating to history, but when I picked up a book about Abraham Lincoln, I was instantly intrigued. I suppose this particular book isn’t a true historical nonfiction novel, and infact it isn’t nonfiction at all. It fits more clearly in the genre of fantasy and fiction, but with hints and dashes and pinches of historical events here and there. There are many chapters in this book that have all occurred in the real world, however, the author has twisted them to fit in with the category he was striving to attain.
Vampires.
I think many people have seen the movie, but not many have read the book. Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter is the book I am currently reading and I cannot stop reading it. It’s so interesting and having seen the movie, it just makes me that much more intrigued! The story is sectioned into three increments or chapters. One where it explains his childhood, one that details the events that unfolded during his time as a vampire hunter and another that describes the events of his presidency.
Everything mentioned in the story has been true to some extent. The author did a fantastic job of simply shifting the focus so that it revolved more so around the bloodsucking vampires instead.
Now, this is not a very liked topic- vampires. What since that Twilight saga was released and all, but I must say that the movie and so far the book is an incredible read and I urge everyone to at least take a look at it before judging it.
by Shijara on April 30th, 2014, 2:51 am 
