I've recently got my hands on a copy of Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney and I am having a blast! I've only played up to the first half of Maya's trial, but holy crap, figuring out how to spot the contradictions in witness testimonies makes me feel more of a badass then when I'm shooting the heads off of helpless villagers in Fable II. I only stopped to write this blog entry, really, so I'm heading back now - to defend Maya and get her out of that detention center!

I really don't feel like working on that script... How mad do you think he'd get if I showed up empty handed again?
Probably very mad.

Mirror mirror on the wall, what's the most embarrassing thing of all? Well, today, I was trying to comment on this vignette that I really like on devArt. It's been ages since I've actually commented on any piece, but I really liked this one, and perfectly constructed my comment, hitting on all the things I really liked about it. However, I was posting this in my sister's room, and her computer's mouse is really spazzy. When I hit reply, mouse, since it's sensitive as all hell, managed to hit it three (or four) times in the span of a single second, resulting in this monstrosity. Gahh, I'm so embarrassed! I haven't done anything so noobish in ages, really! That's what I get for being impatient and using my sister's computer instead of just waiting for my own to start up, though...

But! If there's a plus side to any of this, it's that it's given me the urge to write! Okay, okay, I always have the urge to write, I'm just too lazy to do anything about it, but there can never be enough inspiration, am I right? I just recently woke up... (god, it's like three in the afternoon right now, too) but I've decided that I've got to try and get in my four daily things today: read, write, blog, and exercise! I also have to charge my iPod so that when I get on the treadmill, I can have something to watch... I also have to find a spare notebook I can use to track my exercising progress, my weight, etc. Maybe it's just my OCD, but I love making sure things are recorded in some space, else I forget about all the progress I've made...

I said I'm going to start writing today, but the question is: what? I joined storycubes yesterday and asked for a cube, but I haven't gotten it yet, so I'll just peruse the deviantArt groups for some prompts instead. There is a master list of writing journals and groups that you should check out if you're on deviantArt and want to get involved in the Lit community (because believe me, it's huge) but here are some of the communities that I've checked out and personally recommend. Again, I haven't joined them yet, but I will later today! ... Promise!

( In which Kiri spams links to nifty dA writing groups )

Bah, I rambled so much, and I still have more to say! But my grumpy mother just woke up, so I better get going. (Sheesh, she's slamming doors and everything, what's her problem...?) Wish me luck on my quadruple daily dares!

God, I’m exhausted. I just came back from covering the candidates’ debate with my mentor.

If there’s anything I learned from this mentorship so far, it’s that you should always come at least twenty minutes early to any event you’re going to. Even if you don’t expect a lot of people to be there, you want to make sure that you get first pick when it comes to seating arrangements, or else you’ll be standing up for during the whole two-hour event, taking notes while surrounded by people who you can’t help but feel are looming over your shoulder. When you’re dressed to impress, with a notebook in hand and pencil behind your ear, of course they’re going to know that you’re for a newspaper – people move in closer and can’t help but take a few glances at your notes. One of my biggest pet peeves (and I have a lot of pet peeves anyway, so this is probably irrelevant) is when people look over my shoulder and glance down at what I’m writing.

So that was me – I arrived with ten minutes to spare before the debate began, and my mentor hadn’t managed to snag a seat. I still don’t know if that was because he was waiting for me or because he didn’t think of it – but it was probably my fault, looking back. He made no note of it and was glad to see me, and we loomed in the back of the church, memo pad in hand, ready to take notes. Granted, I don’t know if I’ve got this whole note taking thing down yet – I just write down what facts might seems important, in a sort of chicken-scratch scrawl that might seem perfectly readable to me at the time, but when I go back to look at it, I cringe and wonder just how uncomfortable I had to be to write so atrociously. Meanwhile, while we’re standing (for two hours, may I remind you) the building is positively packed – and that would be fun, except for the fact that so many people smelled of cigarette smoke.

In a previous blog post, I told you that I’d never turn my parents in if they happened to be smokers and happened to smoke pot. Now, I’m telling you that I definitely would, because my body just cannot handle the intensity of so much smoke in one building. It only took an hour in the debate for my lungs to get heavy, and I started wondering if I should’ve brought my inhaler – I’ve never had an attack, but for a few moments back there, I was genuinely scared that if my knee didn’t give out on me, that I’d start having an attack and just start convulsing on the floor. To make matters word, an eccentric old timer was standing behind me most of the time, and he was probably the smokiest of them all. It wasn’t even just cigarette smoke, but it was this indescribable foul odor, like… fermented rabbit and dog droppings, left out in the sun to stew. It was unbelievably bad, and to be honest, I’m not sure how I made it through the debate at all.

But despite all of that, I can tell you wholeheartedly that the debate was really interesting and intense! It was probably the first debate I’ve ever been to, but, hell, all the issues they were discussing, I was amazed that I actually got what was going on, that I understood all the things they were talking about. Rhode Island’s in a bad state – everyone knows that, you don’t need to be a politician to know that – but did you know that we’re the 49th worst state to run a business? That we’re probably the most liberal state, because we’re so slack with who qualifies for unemployment and who doesn’t? Did you know that our current school committee head doesn’t even know the graduation requirements for seniors?

It was outstanding, really. There was some mudslingers, really inspirational speeches, heated debates over certain expansion projects that a lot of people don’t agree with… I didn’t think I’d like it at all, but to be honest, I enjoyed being able to go and seeing just what exactly is going on with our state. Yesterday, I looked in the mirror and said, “Am I really cut out for this?” Right now, I’m thinking the answer is yes – yes, I really think I am.

But that doesn’t change how tired I am. God, and I might be going out again tomorrow!

Earlier today, I was thinking about making a prompt community that would solace focus on original writing. I haven’t noticed until very recently that Dreamwidth is positively packed with fandom community, and there are very little places that cater to original writers. Yes, I know there are some – but there need to be more, I think. Problem is, while I have a good idea for an original writing prompt community, I’m not sure if I’d have the drive, dedication, and time to run it. Would it be so much work, though? I’m not sure. I’ll be thinking it over this week, but it would really be interesting to have a group of people who loved writing original pieces, and not so much fanfiction. And I’ve nothing against fanfiction, but I’m just not a big fandom person. Okay, that’s a lie – a part of me really likes certain fandoms, like Kingdom Hearts (god, I’m such a big Kingdom Hearts fan, I won’t deny that) but writers who primarily don’t write fandom need to be represented more around DW! Maybe I’ll make one, I don’t know. I’d need to think more about it, definitely, especially since I have so much going on with school. If I were to make one, it’d probably be after senior project’s over and done with.

Also, while I’m not taking part in NaNoWriMo (I’m working on editing my rough draft of Pridea instead) I’ll probably be taking part in NaBloPoMo – or National Blog Posting Month. The jist of it is to basically post a blog entry every day for a month. Pretty simple, I think – plus, I had wanted to do something like that anyway for October, but I had been iffy about whether not I should move over to DW or stay on Blogger. Since I’m definitely staying here on DW, why not participate in NaBloPoMo? Might as well start breaking in this new blog as much as I can!

I’m off – to brush my teeth, to brush my hair, to go to bed.

I’m going to city hall today, for my 15-hour internship with the freelancer. I dressed formal for the occasion - rarely am I ever seen in actual shoes, dress pants, a black turtleneck, and a grey overcoat with shiny new buttons. Mother dolled up my face with her tentacle hands, applying makeup to any spot that dare show off imperfections. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I felt my heart sink to my chest. This is the last person I ever wanted to be. When have I ever thought to myself, when I was young, “I want to be a journalist!”?

The answer is never – and yet, at the same time, this is what I want. Yes, no, I don’t know what I want anymore – but all I do know, is that when I pictured myself as an adult when I was younger, I was a quirky, young hipster who wrote novels for a living, and wore different colored socks and didn’t give a damn about anything. And to be honest, I don’t give a damn about the news – but then again, I don’t give a damn about anything. There are so many problems in this world, so many things that need to be fixed, but I don’t want to be the one to fix them. God, I just want to lie down. I want to leave reality and float on rainbow coloured clouds.

I had a thought today, as I was walking home from school, that perhaps, I would be the one to help put an end to Rhode Island corruption. I’d be the daring journalist to go in and investigate all the big time names – all the mayors we’ve had, all the shady lawyers who do double-edged deals under the rug – I’d be the one to wonder where all of this missing money’s going off to, I’d be the one to expose them all and clean up all the dust from Rhode Island’s grimy name. To be a shōnen manga hero – that’s been my dream for a while too. Is it such a horrible desire, to want to be someone with unspeakable power, who gets into tough situations, but pulls through, despite the odds? Hell if I’d actually have the nerve to do something as great as that, though – I am not so brave and courageous. I will not live the life that very few people get to do in this world.

Mother believes that I will be the one to save her from her current lifestyle. She wholeheartedly believes that I will be the one to support her when she gets older, that I will inherit our house and pay the bills for her, that I will cater to her every whim. That, I know, will not happen. It cannot. I will not live in this house when I get older – I’ll have an apartment somewhere, I’ll live on my own, I’ll walk around the apartment in my underwear if I want, and eat ice cream on the couch while watching anime on my computer. I’ll save up money little by little to by a flatscreen TV for myself, so I can play my video games in high quality. I’ll have a little room dedicated to writing newspaper articles. I won’t even have a landline, just a cell phone. I don’t want much out of life. I just want little things.

Everyone expects so much of me. My Latin teacher, my family, my teachers, my guidance counselors…

But god, all I want to do is lie down.

Addiction is one hell of a feeling.

I'm not just talking about that need to smoke a cigarette or get your fix from your flavor-of-the-day drug, it could be anything. The need to pick up a video game and play it, the need to stuff your face with a huge slice of German chocolate cake – and damn, it’s a need, people, not a want. I’m not sure when I turned into a hedonist ,but I am, and I can’t even stand myself anymore. I keep telling myself, “Just once, just once, just once,” but I can’t. I gotta stop wasting time. How many hours do I loose in a day (in a month, in a year?) just goofing off like this? So I turned to my blog, desperate to take my mind off it, but oh, in the back of my mind, as soon as I spot a moment of weakness, I know I’ll turn to it again. If I believed in a god, I’d ask him to help me, but I’ve long passed the period where divine retribution could save me.

Speaking of addiction, here’s some interesting news of the day.

Apparently, an eleven year old kid turned in his parents for smoking pot. He was a D.A.R.E. student I guess – and for those who might not know, D.A.R.E.’s a program that most kids go through that teaches them about drugs, what happens if you do them, the street names they all have, etc. At the end of the program, they usually make kids swear to live a drug free live. The class really drills into your head that drugs are bad, and if you do them, you’ll die. Die. Yes, die. Yeah, they list all the side effects and everything, but by the time you’re done with the class, you figure you’ll never take drugs, ‘cause there’s no way in hell you want all the icky things drug do to you happen to you, right?

To be honest, I think this kid took things to the extreme. I mean, they’re you’re parents, dude. They feed you and clothe you give you allowance money. Why would you turn them in? Apparently he and his sister are staying with his relatives now, and they haven’t been jailed, but still. It reminds me loads of Owell’s 1984, where children were groomed to turn in their parents at even the slightest hint of negative emotion towards the Party. There are many people saying – “Ah, pot’s illegal, the kid did the right thing!” But, think about it – he just separated his family; things will never be the same.

Personally, I can’t stand smoking and smoke in general. I’m highly allergic to cigarette smoke – I have huge coughing fits whenever I stand around someone who’s smoking. My eyes start to water and I get dizzy – hell, being around it for too long makes me liable to pass out. Even if you’re not smoking, but you recently took a quick puff, I’ll smell it on your clothes and have a coughing fit. So yeah, I hate smoking and I’d never do it, but even with all of that said, if my parents were smokers (which they never would be) I wouldn’t turn my parents in. Despite all their shortcomings, I love them too much – they feed me, clothe me, and have helped me with so much shit, where the hell would I be without them?

I don’t know, man. I just don’t know.