<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5936982968092131308</id><updated>2011-09-13T06:28:20.870-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Adventures of a Wannabe Author</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Glitch in the System</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01658663765093980227</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>23</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5936982968092131308.post-1154281282321626201</id><published>2011-06-16T11:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-16T11:31:35.689-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Potential Chapter 80 for The Puppet Master</title><content type='html'>Alright, however appropriate or inappropriate this is to the story I had a LOT of fun writing it. So its up to you guys now. Let me know if you think its too raunchy or out of character for the Twilight saga. I'm posting the whole chapter, but in case you're not sure, the iffy part is at the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~*~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I walked forward into the sun happily taking in such a delightful scene. &lt;br /&gt; The sun beat down on a dusty street paved with square stones. Crowds flowed through alleyways, into the main plaza. The festive people that wore red ribbons and held the hands of their children as functional families had come out for the spectacle of the decorated city.&lt;br /&gt; I looked around, following the crowd that all seemed to be heading the same direction. Light murmurs hummed like an orchestra waiting to start a symphony when suddenly I realized that I wasn’t sure where I was or why I was here. &lt;br /&gt; I didn’t recognize the buildings. They were older and certainly not American inspired architecture. Still I kept with the current of the moving people, wearing purposeful red garments deeper into the old city. &lt;br /&gt; That was when a dark cloaked figure joined the mass of people, he walked more purposefully, somehow weaving through the crowd expertly without bumping into anyone. He was easily taller than the rest of them, and while he didn’t look at all like he belonged there, they ignored him.&lt;br /&gt; He stopped when he was right beside me, looked down his white nose from his great height. I narrowed my eyes, straining to see exactly who this figure was, but his face was shadowed his hood. &lt;br /&gt; “Walk with me,” he instructed.&lt;br /&gt; I didn’t hesitate to follow, but he still felt the need to pull me. His hard, cool hand wrapped around my wrist to tug me along. I nearly tripped a few times to keep up with his pace. He could move so much easier than I could as the crowds naturally parted for him. &lt;br /&gt; Now that I was with the man in the black cloak, I was recognized by all the people around me. They started to acquire familiar features, even though I hadn‘t met any of them. I knew them from somewhere. I just couldn’t place where.&lt;br /&gt; The cloaked figure yanked on my arm, silently demanding that I stop gawking at the people and pay attention to where I was going. As my focus returned I found us squeezing into an alleyway. Chills danced down my arm as we stepped into the shadows. &lt;br /&gt; The grip on my wrist squeezed tighter. It was cold and hard like stone. Realization hit me too late. This tall, domineering figure from my dreams wasn’t just any person. &lt;br /&gt; It was a vampire.&lt;br /&gt; For the first time I pulled back, panic making me forget everything else, like just how pointless it was to fight. &lt;br /&gt; “Let go! Let go of me now!” He stopped, looking down his pale nose at me once more. I could just barely see the glimmer of his eyes underneath the rim of the hooded cloak, making me think that I must know this vampire.&lt;br /&gt; “Who are you?”&lt;br /&gt; “Hurry up. We’ll be late,” said the man in a velvet voice. I couldn’t stop moving, even when I recognized his voice. My entire body erupted in chills. The blood drained completely from my face, leaving me cold.&lt;br /&gt; No, no, no… &lt;br /&gt; His head tilted up letting the barest hint of light shine on the shadows allowed a small glimpse of white skin, stretched over chiseled masculine features.. Red eyes shined on either side of an aristocratic nose and thin strands of elegant dark curls touched his high cheek bones. &lt;br /&gt; We both stopped to stare at each other. &lt;br /&gt; And then he smiled, his sharp features seemingly illuminated by his handsome smirk. &lt;br /&gt; “Hello Camille,” Laurent greeted.&lt;br /&gt; I screamed in earnest, but the sound was choked off early when he swept me off my feet and slammed me to his chest. His hand slapped over my mouth so that when I realized what had happened I was already restrained.&lt;br /&gt; “Now, now,” he coaxed moving us forward. &lt;br /&gt; Wild and thrashing, I pulled on his arm to let me go. &lt;br /&gt; Despite my muffled screams and flailing limbs no one paid any mind to me. Their laughs and chatter had dulled as we entered with the flow of the people into the plaza. Laurent adjusted his hold on me, picking me up until his mouth was beside my ear while he walked us forward. &lt;br /&gt; “Calm down, little one. Calm down. I just want you to see something,” he said laughing just a little. His breath brushed wisps of my hair with each word.&lt;br /&gt; Reluctantly, I lost the ability to fight against him. Instead I focused on the people around me. Everyone was facing the same direction, the clock tower in the center of the plaza. Surrounding us all were sturdy, older looking buildings that must have survived decades with careful maintenance of a people proud of their heritage.  &lt;br /&gt; I looked to my left, seeing a huge ornate fountain with clear chlorine waters. The cupids spouting water were distinctly Italian. &lt;br /&gt; Italy? Fountains? Clock towers?&lt;br /&gt; Three more cloaked figures walked into view on the roof of one of the ancient buildings, looking down on the scene below. I followed their gaze toward that clock tower at the dusty steps led up to the double doors below it. A large, well built man stood in the doorway, the silhouette broad shoulders and body oddly out of place in the scene. &lt;br /&gt; He took one step and though he was not in the sunlight I could see his face clearly now. &lt;br /&gt; “Paul?” I whispered in confusion, surprised to find his name was not muffled against Laurent’s hand.&lt;br /&gt; Paul was shirtless, which was fine when he was at home among the other werewolves, but he would never draw attention to himself like that in public. More cloaked figures emerged on the rooftops, tensing as the crowd began to murmur to one another again.  &lt;br /&gt; What were the other vampires waiting for?&lt;br /&gt; Laurent suddenly clenched his hold on me tightening his hand over my mouth again. He pulled me close to him again, lips grazing my ear when he spoke. &lt;br /&gt; “You’re very brave when its just you that needs saving. You attract danger, hoping it will find you before it finds anyone else. You forget that most people want you alive. He doesn‘t have you anymore.”&lt;br /&gt; The blood drained from my face. In my shock I felt as cold as Laurent. Adrenaline dumped into my system, giving me an all knew urge to fight against him. I had to do anything I had to get away. I had to show him I was alive, that I was here. &lt;br /&gt; “Paul! Don’t!” &lt;br /&gt; I tried to wriggle away from Laurent, but couldn’t escape him. Laurent his grip tightening to hold me against him with painful, almost suffocating force. I coughed out as his arms pushed on my ribs, refusing to give up my attempts to reach Paul in time.&lt;br /&gt; Laurent‘s chuckle at my struggle had only the barest hint of madness. He was enjoying this.&lt;br /&gt; “He couldn’t be human without his Cammy. Couldn’t even be a wolf without her. You. Were. His. Everything,” Laurent hissed, punctuating each word with deliberate slowness.&lt;br /&gt; “Let go!”&lt;br /&gt; “Your foolishness left him with nothing. Watch him. Watch as he finally succumbs,” Laurent taunted. &lt;br /&gt; Paul took another step, which turned out to be a cue for the hidden spectators. Like a choreographed dance, all the other cloaked creatures on the surrounding rooftops simultaneously dropped into a crouch, coiling to attack. &lt;br /&gt; Please, please. Don’t let him do this. I need him too. &lt;br /&gt; Tears flowed down my cheeks and sank between Laurent’s fingers in his bruising hold. My arms were pinned to my side, but I kicked out like a mad woman, tangling my legs in Laurent’s cloak in my efforts. &lt;br /&gt; Paul took the final step into the sunlight. His brown eyes closed as he turned his face toward the sky, solemnly accepting his fate. The rays glinted off his skin, making him sparkle like a vampire. He was sad and beautiful.&lt;br /&gt; He was the spectacle everyone had come to see. &lt;br /&gt; The cloaked figures tightened their position and dropped on him all at once. White hands emerged from their sleeves, fingers curled into claws to better rip him apart.&lt;br /&gt; Only then did Laurent let me go. I hit the ground running, but would never be able to reach him in time. The gray cloaks rushed forward in a blur. The people finally reacted. They screamed and ran the way they came, picking up their children and knocking each other out of the way. &lt;br /&gt; I couldn’t see him, couldn’t be heard over the commotion. The wet sound of flesh tearing, the roar of defeat and yelps of pain mingled with the enthusiastic hiss of scrambling vampires. &lt;br /&gt; “Paul! Paul!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; ~*~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; This was the second time in two days I woke up drenched in sweat having woken up from Twilight dreams. I gave myself a moment to lay there and press my finger tips to my closed eyes. It seemed Bella was getting inside my head, giving me her nightmares. &lt;br /&gt; Volterra. &lt;br /&gt; Why would I have a dream of Paul reenacting Edward’s attempt at suicide?&lt;br /&gt; There was a knock on my bedroom door.&lt;br /&gt; “Cammy, are you awake?” Aunt Debbie asked. I threw the covers off, shaking off my nerves and rolled my shoulders. Now it was time to get some personal business done. Graduating wasn’t a big deal, I guessed. La Push was so small that there were only about twenty other people walking with me.&lt;br /&gt; “Yeah,” I asked. She cracked open the door, peeked in to make sure she wasn’t disturbing me and then smiled her bright blue eyes at me. &lt;br /&gt; “Bob and I were thinking of taking you and Paul out to eat afterward. How does that sound?” she asked. I wasn’t sure why it struck me as a surprise. I guess I still wasn’t viewing my own graduation as a real event. Maybe it was for other people, but I always felt like I had bigger things to worry about. &lt;br /&gt; “Sure,” I said. “I have to warn you though. If you’ve ever seen Paul eat…”&lt;br /&gt; Aunt Debbie put a hand up to stop me. &lt;br /&gt; “I have seen that boy eat. Believe me, I‘m aware of the consequences. Invite him. We’ll have a nice time,” she insisted. I nodded, pleased. &lt;br /&gt; “Okay. Thanks,” I said. &lt;br /&gt; Aunt Debbie closed the door, leaving me to dress. It was always strange going through the outfits and finding mysterious articles I knew for a fact I’d never bought for myself. What did one where to a graduation? Did it even matter with the gown over it?&lt;br /&gt; Jeans and tennis shoes it was. I grabbed Eclipse and tucked it under my arm to start the day. The minute I walked out Aunt Debbie spun me around and guided me back to the bedroom.  &lt;br /&gt; “You cannot read during your own graduation. And you need tot wear some nice trousers or something at the very least. This is serious. It’s a big stepping stone to the rest of your life,” she insisted nudging me through the doorway. She closed the door after me to let me dress again. &lt;br /&gt; I frowned into the empty space. &lt;br /&gt; “What should I wear?” I called after her.&lt;br /&gt; “Think… dressy casual,” Aunt Debbie said. I looked around my room, unsure of what that could even mean. I decided it was somewhere less dressy than Cullen casual and more dressy than jeans. The only thing I could think of was the skirt I’d worn the day before and a sort of flowy shirt. &lt;br /&gt; I opened the door. &lt;br /&gt; Aunt Debbie approved with a smile and raised a camera that seemingly materialized from nowhere to flash a picture. I blinked away the spots dancing in front of my eyes. &lt;br /&gt; “Are you ready?” Aunt Debbie asked. I rubbed the heel of my hand over my eyes hoping it would help my vision return and nodded. “Did you want to put on make up or do your hair? Because we need to be heading out pretty soon.”&lt;br /&gt; “Can I do that in the car?”  &lt;br /&gt; “Sure… Bob! Come on!” Aunt Debbie called up the stairs toward the bedroom. &lt;br /&gt; “Do I wear a tie to something like this? Or a jacket?” &lt;br /&gt; Aunt Debbie rolled her eyes dramatically for my benefit.&lt;br /&gt; “A shirt and khakis will be fine,” she said. With that Uncle Bob came down the steps buttoning the last button of his shirt. He flashed a grin. &lt;br /&gt; “You look nice,” he said. &lt;br /&gt; “Thanks. So do you,” I said. Aunt Debbie edged toward the door, not so subtly encouraging us out. It wasn’t until I saw the clock on the dashboard I realized that the event was starting in just fifteen minutes. &lt;br /&gt; “Oh crap.”&lt;br /&gt; “Yes, that’s why we needed to go,” Aunt Debbie said. &lt;br /&gt; She drove like a… well, like me when I realized I was going to be late. Luckily, La Push was used to seeing the Celica zip through their little town and spin into the first parking space available. &lt;br /&gt; I got out seeing nothing all that different about the school. I mean, it was weird to see cars there when it was supposed to be closed for the summer break, but other than that there were no balloons or posters or anything. &lt;br /&gt; I was definitely getting mixed messages about this graduating thing. &lt;br /&gt; “Cam!”&lt;br /&gt; I spun around, taken aback by the sight that I saw. He wore dark gray pants that were way too short on him, but had been attempted to cover black socks that led down to worn, but nice loafers. This was all matched with a bright blue shirt button up, the pastel complimenting his darker skin tone in an oddly fashionable way. The sleeves were rolled to the elbows probably to hide the fact that they didn’t quite touch his wrists. &lt;br /&gt; He smiled a wide, wild smile at me and held out a bouquet of pastel yellow flowers wrapped in crinkling transparent plastic.&lt;br /&gt; “Paul, you look-…” Oddly enough I was actually thinking of a comment Bella had made comparing Edward to the hero in an Anne of Green Gables novel. An Anne of Green Gables hero that had suffered a very sudden growth spurt. I suppressed a laugh, because despite it all I understood that he had done something very sweet for my sake. “Very handsome. Where did you get the flowers?” &lt;br /&gt; He smiled back at me, gripped me in a quick kiss that was appropriate enough to be seen in front of my aunt and uncle.&lt;br /&gt; “All the way from Paris. I had them shipped,” he quipped. &lt;br /&gt; I laughed. &lt;br /&gt; “Weird. I saw a bouquet just like this in Old Quil’s store. Probably could have saved you the shipping fees,” I retorted back. Aunt Debbie walked back to us, looked at Paul’s impressive build squeezed into clothing that was obvious tailored for a man with a normal body frame.&lt;br /&gt; He scratched his head. &lt;br /&gt; “I… guess I should have waited until afterward to give you these,” he said. I shrugged, patted the smooth petals and smelled them for good measure. We didn’t have many couple things like a song or favorite movie, but these yellow roses seemed to be a reoccurring thing.&lt;br /&gt; I allowed myself that gooey moment to show my appreciation for them. &lt;br /&gt; “They’re perfect,” I told him. He beamed, satisfied with himself. We locked eyes, still smiling at each other when Aunt Debbie moved into the conversation.&lt;br /&gt; “You look nice, Paul,” she said politely ignoring the fit.&lt;br /&gt; “Thanks,” he said. &lt;br /&gt; Aunt Debbie shot me a look. &lt;br /&gt; “Go on. The website said you had to be in the cafeteria by ten,” she said. Then she caught sight of the flowers. “Oh. How lovely. We’ll hold them for you. Bob, look at these.” I stalled a little bit longer, standing with them in the parking lot, but Aunt Debbie shooed me along. &lt;br /&gt; She and Uncle Bob stood in the parking lot talking to Paul. It was a nice sight to see and I realized just how important this was to Aunt Debbie. She didn’t have any kids, but I hadn’t thought I’d done anything to really warrant this kind of excitement from her. Or even Uncle Bob. &lt;br /&gt; The moment I walked into the building someone pushed a red gown and cap into my hands and directed me toward a line of murmuring students. Some of them wore leis and others had brand new sparkling jewelry hanging over gowns. &lt;br /&gt; None of them were in the Pack, but I recognized one or two of them. They stood nervous, giggling to one another as I passed them all to the back of the line. I draped the gown over my head, straightened the hat over my quick pony tail.&lt;br /&gt; The Pomp and Circumstance march came flowing out of the speakers. Suddenly my stomach was fluttering with nerves. The line moved forward, forcing me to move along with it. I hadn’t been to many graduations and this one was certainly low on the formal scale as there couldn’t have been more than twenty other people in my class, so small we didn’t even have to sit in alphabetical order. &lt;br /&gt; But we all filed in with me trailing behind. The line moved right down the center of the aisle where tables had been cleared leaving nothing but long benches for the families and friends. Folding chairs lined up at the foot of the stage for the graduating class. We all took our seats quickly without the usual chaos of friends trying to sit next to each other. &lt;br /&gt; The lights were low and rain pattered on the rooftops outside, but the stage was lit for the principal, teachers, and other education officials in charge of the La Push high school. I sat, shifting uncomfortable in the polyester gown that made any exposed skin underneath itch. &lt;br /&gt; “Families, teachers, and graduating class. It is my honor to stand before you where and announce that you are well on your way to your futures. To your adulthood and careers. More than half of this class is already accepted into four year colleges and more than that has received some kind of scholarship to help you start your lives…”&lt;br /&gt; He stopped right there.&lt;br /&gt; Well, actually he didn’t, but that was where I stopped listening and realized that I didn’t belong in either of those categories. My brow furrowed as I looked at the complete average faces sitting around me. &lt;br /&gt; I only knew one or two names, but I recognized them all. &lt;br /&gt; While I had been hyperventilating in front of vampires, attending Pack meetings, signing and breaking treaties, fighting and making up with Paul, these people had been doing what they were supposed to. These people were sure of their futures. &lt;br /&gt; A small bubble of panic joined the already nervous butterflies in my stomach. I understood all at one why graduation was a big deal. This was the end of childhood fantasies, this was the end of coasting through my own real life so I could give the books all of my attention. &lt;br /&gt; What was I supposed to do when there were no more books to follow?&lt;br /&gt; Sudden cheering woke me out of that strangely terrifying train of thought. The principal smiled, turned to a teacher holding a stack of papers in her hand. &lt;br /&gt; “First I want to say,” she said straightening the papers while she waited for the excited hoots and cheers of the graduating class and families to fade. “That no matter what anyone in this class has accomplished now, no matter what choices have been made so far, that none of you are done making choices or meeting milestones in your lives.”&lt;br /&gt; Well, that didn’t make me feel any better. &lt;br /&gt; She grinned out at the crowd, looked down and read out the first name. &lt;br /&gt; It wasn’t like the other graduations I’d seen and maybe that was because I was from a city with an overcrowded school system. This ceremony was organized chaos. There had been no practices or cues to learn. People just got up and ran up the stage to receive their certificates, smile for the camera when they shook hands with the officials, and let their families cheer from their respective corners of the audience. It took literally four names to come to the H’s.&lt;br /&gt; “Camille Rose Haugen.”&lt;br /&gt; I stood up, squeezed past the knees of those sitting in the same row of surprised that there was utter silence at my name. I climbed the stairs, shook the hand of some guy I didn’t know, and took the certificate. &lt;br /&gt; The moment my hand touched the paper the room exploded with noise. &lt;br /&gt; “CAMMY!”&lt;br /&gt; The floor vibrated with the booming cheers from a particular corner of the cafeteria. Nearly a dozen familiar faces stood along the back wall of the cafeteria clapping, hooting, and whistling. Almost the entire Pack was there. Sam, Emily, Kim, Quil, Embry, Seth, and finally Paul who wore his wide wild grin. &lt;br /&gt; And all around them, people stared in annoyance and covered their ears. &lt;br /&gt; I laughed out loud, held up my diploma victoriously. &lt;br /&gt; They cheered even louder. &lt;br /&gt; “Alright, alright, alright. That’s enough. Go sit down, Ms. Haugen,” the teacher said, clearly irritated. Even with the help of a microphone her voice was muffled. Smiling madly, I trotted down the steps back down to my seat. &lt;br /&gt; Soon enough hats were thrown, gowns were shed, and thank god there were no streakers.&lt;br /&gt; “Congrats!” Paul said throwing his arms around me and crushing me to his chest. I hadn’t stopped smiling since that surprising and great show of support. “Did you hear us cheering for you?”&lt;br /&gt; I pulled away, gave him a look. &lt;br /&gt; “Yes, as well as the rest of the tri-county area,” I assured him. &lt;br /&gt; His small smirk evolved into a wide, devious grin that showed he and the others had obviously planned this. Maybe it had been a joke to embarrass me, but the truth was that the show of support had been exactly what I needed.&lt;br /&gt; Aunt Debbie and Uncle Bob pushed past another celebrating family. My aunt wrapped me in a hug, pulled me away grinning. “Oh, congrats. You did it, honey!”&lt;br /&gt; I laughed awkwardly. &lt;br /&gt; “Yeah,” I said. &lt;br /&gt; She snapped another picture of me before I had time to ready myself for the flash. I blinked.&lt;br /&gt; “Your parents would have loved to be here,” she said. I pressed my lips tight, determined not to show the stab of guilt that came from that little comment. Oblivious to the effect, Uncle Bob turned to Paul. &lt;br /&gt; “So. Where are we going to celebrate?” he asked. &lt;br /&gt; “Oh,” I said. I turned to Paul. “I forgot to tell you. Aunt Debbie and Uncle Bob are taking us out for food.” Paul’s eyes sparkled with hope. &lt;br /&gt; “Food?” &lt;br /&gt; I was about to say something when huge warm hands wrapped around my waist and lifted me off the ground. &lt;br /&gt; “Congratulations!” Quil cheered dramatically. &lt;br /&gt; The Pack surrounded me, practically enveloped in my very own personal dog pile, taking turns with hugs and ruffling my hair. A couple other dozen hands joined in from overhead to do the same, leaving me trying to half-heartedly attempt to swat them away. &lt;br /&gt; “Thank you…” I groaned, tucking a strand of hair over my ear and wobbling to catch my balance again. There they all were smiling down at me, despite all the differences we’d ever had between us. What was strange was that I was grinning just as wide. “Thanks for coming, you guys.”&lt;br /&gt; Weird how just moment ago I couldn’t have even bothered to remember and now I truly was happy that everyone had decided to make a big deal over this event. Sam patted me on the shoulder. &lt;br /&gt; “We’d stay longer and celebrate, but we’ve all been pretty busy lately,” Sam said. There was a pointed look in that comment that said that they really had to get back to patrolling and sniffing for intruders.&lt;br /&gt; “Alright, but I’m keeping him for today,” I said pointing at Paul. &lt;br /&gt; He grinned smugly at Sam. &lt;br /&gt; Sam smiled. &lt;br /&gt; “Okay,” he agreed, smiling a little himself. Aunt Debbie and Uncle Bob gave one another a look, obviously lost on the implied exchange between Sam and me. He patted Paul on the shoulder. “See you later tonight then, Paul.”&lt;br /&gt; Paul frowned.&lt;br /&gt; “That means you’re patrolling tonight, doesn’t it?” I whispered&lt;br /&gt; He nodded. I put my arm around him and gave him a sympathetic pat.&lt;br /&gt; “Alright. Cammy’s the graduate. She gets to choose where we’re eating,” Aunt Debbie said. In all of Forks there are about three places that will actually let you sit down and eat in the same place you ordered food, so I picked on of the few diners a safe distance between La Push and Forks.&lt;br /&gt; We weren’t the only celebrating family there, so Aunt Debbie and Uncle Bob left us alone to wait while they talked to the host about how long the wait for a table would be. Paul leaned back, put his arm around my shoulder. &lt;br /&gt; “I can’t believe you conned them into doing that for me,” I said. &lt;br /&gt; He gave me a look that said I wasn’t fooling anyone by pretending to be annoyed by it. &lt;br /&gt; “You loved it,” he insisted.&lt;br /&gt; “I did,” I admitted, grinning. And there we were sitting there on the vinyl bench, happy as I’d ever been when only moments into the principal’s speech I’d been about to have a personal crisis. &lt;br /&gt; “So… You didn’t say anything about the trip to the vampire lair,” Paul said. &lt;br /&gt; I frowned at him, then deciphered his meaning. &lt;br /&gt; “The Cullens were very welcoming. I had a pretty cool philosophical conversation with Carlisle. I left before I could play Chopsticks on Edward’s piano or jump on his new bed, but I guess there should be time for that later.” &lt;br /&gt; My voice trailed off, thinking of how that night had ended.&lt;br /&gt; “But…?” Paul said leading me into telling me what was bothering me. &lt;br /&gt; “I got into a fight with Jasper,” I said. &lt;br /&gt; He stiffened, frowned in confusion and then looked at the rest of me as if looking for battle wounds. Now, &lt;br /&gt; “What?” he asked. &lt;br /&gt; I put my hand up. &lt;br /&gt; “I didn’t call him out for a showdown or anything. We just… Well, he said something that was completely off, which made me go and scream at him,” I said, remembering the names I’d called him. His entire race. &lt;br /&gt; “What did he say to you?”&lt;br /&gt; “It’s not important. But he just sat there taking it while I went off yelling at him. I almost wished he called me a name or something instead of just making me feel like I was having a one person argument,” I said. I leaned back in the bench and tapped my fingers on my thighs. &lt;br /&gt; “You see, that’s what the Cullens do,” Paul said in agreement. Like me he leaned back and watched the others in the lobby. “They just sit there and watch you react to something they did, making you feel like you’re overreacting.”&lt;br /&gt; I folded my arms. &lt;br /&gt; “I know. It’s frustrating,” I said. &lt;br /&gt; He stiffened again, raised a black brow at me. &lt;br /&gt; “What?”&lt;br /&gt; “You just agreed with something I negative I said about the Cullens,” he said. I blinked. Holy crap, he was right. I was overreacting, wasn’t I? Then there was a show of concern. “Geez, Cam. What did they say to you that made you that angry?”&lt;br /&gt; “It’s not important and… Well, I probably should apologize,” I said. “I was really pissed. I basically told him he and his wife were full of it and vampires were a bunch of smug killers.” &lt;br /&gt; Saying it out loud again made me feel even smaller and more petty than I had last night.&lt;br /&gt; “Yeah. I definitely need to apologize,” I decided. &lt;br /&gt; He shrugged. &lt;br /&gt; “I don’t know. It sounds about right to me,” he said, smirking that knowing smirk he had when he knew he was annoying me by saying something insulting about the Cullens.&lt;br /&gt; “Which is exactly why I should apologize,” I said, smiling at his attempt to make me feel better. “I’ll do it later. Jasper is telling Bella his life story today.”&lt;br /&gt; “Seriously?&lt;br /&gt; I nodded. &lt;br /&gt; Paul snorted. &lt;br /&gt; “Sounds like a blast,” he said. &lt;br /&gt; I rolled my eyes. Personally, I liked reading Jasper’s story a hundred times better than reading the story of the third wife. I frowned, remembering exactly the importance of that story. When Bella learned that werewolves couldn’t live without their imprints. &lt;br /&gt; I had the sudden vision of a huge gray world howling over a dead woman on the La Push beach. The heart-breaking sound of it, even in my head, sent chills up my spine.&lt;br /&gt; “Cammy,” Uncle Bob called, snapping me out of it. “Paul, our table’s ready.” Paul jumped to his feet and held out a hand to me. &lt;br /&gt; “Come on. Let’s eat,” he said. I liked the picture of Paul suited up in his outgrown Easter Sunday, extending his big warm band to me, a whole lot better.&lt;br /&gt; “Yeah,” I said. “I’m starving.” &lt;br /&gt; The rest of the day was actually very pleasant. There was a lot of talk about the ceremony, Paul’s surprise for me and, of course, how fast he’d inhaled his food. It was all so normal that I found myself dreading the inevitable question of what I was going to do now that I was done with school. Like a normal eighteen year old. &lt;br /&gt; Weird. &lt;br /&gt; Either my aunt and uncle were distracted with the conversation about La Push or they just didn’t want to spoil the day, because no one even touched on the subject of the future. It was nice. &lt;br /&gt; Paul and I were left alone again while they went to pay the bill and I got another chance to take a look at Paul’s outfit. His socks were falling down to his ankle, revealing a little leg hair and skin between the cuff of his pants and his shoes. &lt;br /&gt; Paul caught me staring. &lt;br /&gt; “I know. They don’t fit,” he said. &lt;br /&gt; It caught me off guard so I snorted out a laugh that I’d been holding in since the moment I saw him, then hurried to give him a hug when he looked embarrassed. “I wanted to look nice today.”&lt;br /&gt; “No, it’s great. I love the high waters,” I said.&lt;br /&gt; He rolled his eyes, skin darkening with a blush. Then he giggled with me, then retaliated by mussing my hair exactly the way Quil and the others had earlier. And like then, I swatted his hand away playfully and smoothed my messy hairdo again.&lt;br /&gt; I stared at him, waiting for him to take me seriously.&lt;br /&gt; “I loved all the surprises today. The flowers, the dressy pants, and the Pack showing up today. I really needed it,” I said. “I needed to have you around today especially.”&lt;br /&gt; “Why?”&lt;br /&gt; I shrugged. &lt;br /&gt; “This whole graduation thing just has me thinking about the future and all. I haven’t been worrying about much that doesn’t have to do with the story and I‘m afraid that I won‘t know what to do with myself when this is all finished,” I said. Something must have shown in my face then. “I don’t know anything about my own future.”&lt;br /&gt; He matched my shrug with one of his own. &lt;br /&gt; “It’s something to think about,” he said. “I mean, when the books are done are we going to go find jobs? Get married? Buy a house? Maybe find a good online college or something?” I stared at him for a moment. Then he reached out, fixed a brown strand of hair I’d missed and tucked it behind my ear.&lt;br /&gt; “If what you say is true about us not going into a full blown war, then its not a big deal. We’ll figure it out together,” he said. &lt;br /&gt; Something about that we in the statement had me hesitating. Not thinking too hard about it, but definitely hesitating. &lt;br /&gt; “Did I scare you with that whole marriage thing?” he asked. &lt;br /&gt; I shook my head quickly. &lt;br /&gt; “No, no. I’m okay with marrying you,” I said easily. &lt;br /&gt; Now his eyes widened.&lt;br /&gt; “Not this second,” I added. “But I want to be with you forever. There’s no question about that. I thought you knew that.”&lt;br /&gt; He blinked. &lt;br /&gt; “I do…” he said slowly. Then stopped himself, looked at the crowded lobby and smelled the grease stained food that was one small step away from dive food. “God, this has to be the worst proposal in the history of mankind.” &lt;br /&gt; I smiled and bumped his hip with mine.&lt;br /&gt; “We’ll have a do over when we’re both ready,” I said. &lt;br /&gt; “Deal,” he agreed with a deep breath of relief. &lt;br /&gt; “And what did you do yesterday? Jacob went and sniffed out Bella’s visitor,” I said. Paul’s face tightened, losing all the humor in it as he switched gears from personal issues to vampire ones. &lt;br /&gt; “It’s not something we smelled before,” he said. Then included. “It wasn’t what I thought was in La Push.”&lt;br /&gt; He waited for me to give him an ‘I told you so.’ For that reason, I didn’t say it. Simply nodded, then waited as he blew out a frustrated breath.&lt;br /&gt; “I just can’t believe that I’m cracking up like this. How is it that I’m so convinced I smelled something that no one else smelled?” he asked. &lt;br /&gt; I remembered something then. Something Emily had said only hours before I took off to Seattle.&lt;br /&gt; “It wasn’t just you. Sam thought he caught the scent too,” I said. &lt;br /&gt; Paul frowned at me. &lt;br /&gt; “No he didn’t.”&lt;br /&gt; “Yes he did. Emily said he did,” I argued. Then thought for a moment, trying to reach exactly when and where she’d told me that. The doubtful look on Paul’s face had me second guessing my own memory. “Or maybe I’m wrong. It doesn’t matter.”&lt;br /&gt; Aunt Debbie and Uncle Bob returned from having paid. They were still playfully arguing over how much they should have tipped the waitress. That was their relationship, fun little jabs and loving to prove the other wrong. &lt;br /&gt; Not completely unlike Paul and myself.&lt;br /&gt; “Thank you for the meal. It was great seeing you guys again,” Paul said politely. &lt;br /&gt; Uncle Bob leaned in and shook Paul’s hand. &lt;br /&gt; “You’re a good kid, Paul,” he said. Which was an odd thing to say to another man that was six inches taller than himself. “And we know how much you mean to Camille.” Then to me. “Did you want a ride home, Cam, or did you want to spend the day with Paul?”&lt;br /&gt; Paul raised his brows at me, waiting for my answer. &lt;br /&gt; There was nothing that really needed to be done at home, I said. Well, except for calling Jasper and apologizing. And I wasn’t looking forward that little awkward conversation. &lt;br /&gt; “Would you mind?” I asked Paul. &lt;br /&gt; He stared at me. &lt;br /&gt; Right. Stupid question.&lt;br /&gt; “I think I’ll spend the day here. Someone can take me home later,” I said. Paul’s smile could hardly be contained. We walked out together and into the car. Aunt Debbie and Uncle Bob dropped us both off at Emily’s. &lt;br /&gt; As soon as we were through the door Paul yanked the collar of his shirt and pulled it over his head. He went straight to his room, my old room, and changed into some running shorts and a flimsy t-shirt. &lt;br /&gt; He yawned when he returned and joined me on the couch. &lt;br /&gt; “Sorry,” he said around the yawn and collapsed beside me, jostling the springs of Emily‘s comfortably worn couch. “What did you want to do?” I considered that a moment, then the urge to yawn took hold of me. Paul looked hopeful. &lt;br /&gt; “Nap?”&lt;br /&gt; “God, yes,” I said. “I slept like crap last night. And you have to rest up for tonight.”&lt;br /&gt; “That’s right,” he said. He laid back on the couch and let me curl up against him. With the soft background noise of television to lull us both we dozed the rest of the afternoon, which really was the icing of the cake for a perfect graduation day.&lt;br /&gt; I awoke scorching hot. Someone was trying to be gentle in moving me, but I was sticky with sweat. I pulled away from Paul, who looked apologetic as he peeled his arm off my sweaty shoulders. &lt;br /&gt; I glanced around, remembering that I was in Emily’s house. &lt;br /&gt; “How long were we out?” I asked. &lt;br /&gt; “A few hours,” Paul said. I felt good. Smelly and sticky, but definitely refreshed. “I’m sorry. I must have held you a little too close. You’re burning up.” &lt;br /&gt; I gave a nonchalant shrug and started to stretch my arms over my head before I remember what my armpits must have looked in this fever. &lt;br /&gt; “Occupational hazard of an imprint.” &lt;br /&gt; He looked up, checked the time on Emily’s very outdated DVD player sitting on top of the television where a couple was choosing between house number one, two, or three on some reality TV show.&lt;br /&gt; “My shift starts soon. I can drop you off in Forks real fast unless you want to stay the night,” he said. &lt;br /&gt; When I gave him a look he rolled his eyes. &lt;br /&gt; “No one is going to hassle me for dropping you off at home over the border. Come on, Cam,” he said nudging me up from a very comfortable sleeping position on the couch. Then he took both hands and help to grudgingly up to my feet. &lt;br /&gt; “I’ll be right back. I’m going to find Sam and ask to borrow his truck,” he said. &lt;br /&gt; He went toward the back of the house to find seem, give me enough room to stretch and see just how bad my clothes were rumpled. It was pretty bad, but Emily’s house was such a comfortable, familiar place that it didn’t bother me much. &lt;br /&gt; I heard some light chatter from the kitchen and meandered into the room to see Kim and Emily hovering over an ancient laptop at the table. Seeing Kim there was understandable, but Emily clacking away at the keys threw me off. &lt;br /&gt; “Hey sleepy head,” Emily greeted glowing in the bluish light of the screen. &lt;br /&gt; Kim smiled that knowing smile when she saw the state of my clothes and slightly damp with sweat. &lt;br /&gt; “Werewolves. Too adorable to let go, too hot to cuddle with without turning into a sweaty mess,” she said. Emily nodded in agreement. &lt;br /&gt; “I know. You have no idea how often I have to wash the bed sheets,” she stopped in mid-type to glance up from the screen. “Hm. That didn’t sound right, did it?”&lt;br /&gt; Kim leaned away from the screen, smiling. &lt;br /&gt; “Congrats again,” she said changing the subject for Emily‘s sake. &lt;br /&gt; “Thanks. What are you guys doing?”&lt;br /&gt; Emily nodded toward Kim. &lt;br /&gt; “Yet another brilliant idea from our resident genius,” Emily said making a very Vanna White gesture toward Kim. Kim smiled appreciatively, though she didn’t bother to deny it. “We’re writing a manual. Everything the new werewolf or imprint needs to know about legends, imprinting, vampires, and more.”&lt;br /&gt; I thought about that holding Eclipse in my hand, realizing that was exactly what I had and how handy it had been to understanding Paul and the others. Why shouldn’t everyone have that benefit?&lt;br /&gt; “That is pretty brilliant,” I admitted. &lt;br /&gt; “We’re working on the legend portion. Emily started taking notes at the bonfires so we have our histories written down. It’s actually a pretty handy way to understanding imprints. Last night we heard the one about the third wife,” Kim said. Emily gently nudged her with her elbow. &lt;br /&gt; Once more that image flashed. The one of the huge gray wolf and his long mournful howl over his dead beloved. I shook my head before it could do anything more than momentarily disturb me.&lt;br /&gt; “Cammy knows. Bella was there,” Emily said. &lt;br /&gt; Kim perked, making her eyes big and dreamy. &lt;br /&gt; “Ah, yes. Cammy the ever knowing,” she said whimsically. &lt;br /&gt; I walked behind both of their chairs over their shoulders at their work. Indeed it was a very professional looking manuscript complete with footnotes and interesting factoids written in the margins. &lt;br /&gt; “It looks like a textbook,” I said. &lt;br /&gt; “Exactly,” Kim said proudly. &lt;br /&gt; “You don’t have discussion questions and quizzes at the end of each chapter do you? If someone is just finding out their a werewolf or an imprint then they’ve been through enough already.”&lt;br /&gt; Kim narrowed a look at me. &lt;br /&gt; “They’re not hard questions,” she said. I rolled my eyes and muttered a “God help us” under my breath. Paul appeared in the doorway between the kitchen, grinning at Emily and Kim in greeting. Emily smiled back while Kim seemed to be distracted by some typo and angled over Emily to move the keyboard to her.&lt;br /&gt; “You can help, can’t you?” Kim asked me tapping the backspace key and entering in a replacement word for whatever she considered was Emily‘s typo.&lt;br /&gt; I shrugged. &lt;br /&gt; “Maybe if I have some time, but I don‘t know how much I can give you without disrespecting the Cullen’s privacy,” I said.  &lt;br /&gt; “Maybe you can ask them,” she suggested. Then gasped with another striking idea and turned to Emily. “Maybe we can ask them. You know, hear it from the source?” Paul leaned against the door jam, fighting a smile. &lt;br /&gt; “Yeah,” he snorted. “That would go over real well.”&lt;br /&gt; Kim thought on that. &lt;br /&gt; “Jared would not be happy,” she admitted, shoulders slumping in disappointment.&lt;br /&gt; It didn’t seem so impossible to see Carlisle collaborating something like that, then again I was a bit idealistic about werewolf/vampire relations. I patted Kim on the shoulder. “One day, maybe. For now you can ask me some questions and I’ll answer them as vaguely as I can.”&lt;br /&gt; “Sounds helpful,” Kim muttered as I moved to join Paul. &lt;br /&gt; “Thank you, Cammy. Just let us know when you have a day when you‘re not busy,” Emily said over Kim’s muttering. We said our goodbyes then as we let ourselves out the kitchen door around to the side of the house where Sam was currently keeping his cars so the growing Pack would have more room to park. &lt;br /&gt; “That’s pretty interesting,” I said. “A werewolf manual.”&lt;br /&gt; He smiled. &lt;br /&gt; “Yeah. We all got to talking after that day in Seattle. Sam made some joke that he could have used a how-to guide when he first changed. Emily and Kim took it to heart and ran with it,” he said. &lt;br /&gt; I smiled a little to myself. &lt;br /&gt; I could tell by the way Kim and Emily had been leaning over one another, typing together that this was one of the few ways they felt useful to the Pack. Emily made sure they were all fed and Kim was always working on things that would make the werewolves’ lives a little bit easier. &lt;br /&gt; “What’s the exact role of an imprint?” I asked when we were on the road. “I mean, I know our lives are tied together and there’s always the very caveman answer that we are supposed to bear children to keep the bloodline going, but what exactly do we do for you that’s supposed to help the Pack?”&lt;br /&gt; Paul hesitated. &lt;br /&gt; “I don’t know,” he said. “As caveman of an answer as you think it is, I’ve always been told that imprinting helps a werewolf find the ideal mate.”&lt;br /&gt; I shrugged.&lt;br /&gt; “So we’re just mates?” I asked. “We don’t really have any official duties or anything?”&lt;br /&gt; Paul frowned at me. &lt;br /&gt; “You’re not ‘just’ anything, Cam. You’re my life,” he said. With that he took my hand, gave it a quick squeeze. “You don’t have to do anything but stay alive.” We crossed the border in comfortable silence, both of us keeping to ourselves with our own respective thoughts. &lt;br /&gt; The truck pulled up to the house right beside the mailbox conveniently. The flag was up, which was off. If Aunt Debbie was mailing something off she would rather deliver it to the post office herself. &lt;br /&gt; I opened the door. &lt;br /&gt; Paul winced, nose wrinkling. &lt;br /&gt; I looked at him. &lt;br /&gt; “Vampire?”&lt;br /&gt; He nodded, calmly. The very fact that he wasn’t freaking out telling me that is wasn’t anything to be overly concerned with.  &lt;br /&gt; “Cullen,” he said through the open door as I stepped out. I hesitated, thinking of the things I’d said to Jasper the day before. “They’re not here right now. It just smells like they came through here.” I stopped at the mailbox, opened it.&lt;br /&gt; A small pretty looking envelope lay delicately inside &lt;br /&gt; “Looks like they dropped something off,” I said. &lt;br /&gt; The envelope was off-white with the most perfect calligraphy known to mankind. I immediately recognized the writing as Alice’s, opened it up to find a square invitation inside addressed to the Cullen residence. &lt;br /&gt; I was still invited to Bella’s graduation party. &lt;br /&gt; I sighed. &lt;br /&gt; “You know, you may onto something when you say the Cullens really know how to make you feel like a complete schmuck after an incident,” I said. He held out a hand. I let him see the envelope front and back. “I’m going to call Jasper and apologize for being a crazy person.”&lt;br /&gt; Paul shook his head. &lt;br /&gt; “Don’t let them make you feel guilty,” he insisted. It was much too late for that and unfortunately, I knew that Jasper wasn’t trying to make me feel. Hell, it was Jasper, if he wanted me to feel bad he could probably just do it himself.&lt;br /&gt; “I won’t,” I promised Paul. &lt;br /&gt; He leaned over to my side of the truck we I leaned in for a goodnight kiss. He left in a cheerful mood, something he would need if he was going to be pulling an all-nighter. He waited until I was safely inside before he turned around and started toward home.&lt;br /&gt; I watched him from the window for a moment, turned around to see Aunt Debbie wearing her reading glasses over a very large pile of mail. She gave me a long questioning look, but decided not to comment. It wasn’t until I was in the shower I remembered that I was a rumpled mess, and that Aunt Debbie had only to draw her conclusions of my day from that. &lt;br /&gt; “Well, shoot,” I grumbled to myself. &lt;br /&gt; I walked out of the bathroom feeling somewhat human again and started to make my way to my room. Then I opened the door and saw Edward standing with his back to me, staring out my window. &lt;br /&gt; I hesitated with my hand on the door. &lt;br /&gt; “Hey,” I said and shut the door behind me. He was as casual as a Cullen could get, standing in the dark as perfect as ever in his subtle designer clothes, staring at me. One moment went by. Then another. “Did you… need anything?”&lt;br /&gt; He seemed to catch himself then. &lt;br /&gt; “No,” he said. Then added offhandedly, “ Congratulations by the way. We would have been there if the ceremony wasn’t held in La Push.” &lt;br /&gt; “Thanks,” I said. &lt;br /&gt; More quiet. &lt;br /&gt; “Edward, are you okay?” &lt;br /&gt; He finally moved then. &lt;br /&gt; “I’m fine,” he said immediately. &lt;br /&gt; “You don’t look fine,” I said. &lt;br /&gt; He dropped his gaze, suddenly and strangely awkward. My only response was also awkward, stiffly waiting for him to give me a reason for him to be here. By our agreement he shouldn’t have come to yell at me for anything, which meant that there was no other reason that I could think for him dropping by unannounced. &lt;br /&gt; “I shouldn’t be here,” he said. &lt;br /&gt; “Wait, wait…” I couldn’t help but laugh then which only seemed to irritate him. He slowly turned around to face me. Luckily, I had thought to change into my pajamas right after my shower, so I was willing to talk then if he really needed it. “What’s wrong?”&lt;br /&gt; He didn’t move, but wasn’t able to look me in the eye either. &lt;br /&gt; “Bella keeps testing my resilience to her,” he said. If at all possible, he seemed to glare angrily at the ground. “Without access to her mind her temptation is nothing short of frustrating.” &lt;br /&gt; My brow furrowed. &lt;br /&gt; “What are you talking about? You’re completely used to her scent by now…” Warning bells clanged in my head stopping in the middle of my sentence. My eyes widened, alarmed and suddenly terrified. &lt;br /&gt; “Oh. You‘re talking about a different kind of temptation.”&lt;br /&gt; “Yes,” Edward said, letting his frustration show. &lt;br /&gt; We were both quiet then. &lt;br /&gt; “And it has me thinking… about Jacob,” he said. &lt;br /&gt; I almost choked and still choking when I felt the need to say something. &lt;br /&gt; “I have no idea what to say to that.” &lt;br /&gt; He frowned and became irritated at what was apparently my own misunderstanding. &lt;br /&gt; “For her, Cammy. It makes me wonder what Jacob can do for her,” he said. I let out a breath of relief, because I would have no idea how to handle that situation. Edward gave out a grown that was somewhat close to a vampire growl. &lt;br /&gt; I started to say something. Closed my mouth second guessing any response to make.&lt;br /&gt; “I still have no idea what to say,” I confessed.&lt;br /&gt; He stared at me. &lt;br /&gt; “Well, I thought you might know. About werewolves,” he said slowly with implication. We stared at one another for a long time, the tension hadn’t lessened in the room as I thought about what I did know about werewolf sex.&lt;br /&gt; “Well, I don’t…” I began. Then realized that he must think that I have intimate knowledge about the topic. “I’m not having sex with Paul. Not yet anyway.”&lt;br /&gt; Edward’s eyes widened.&lt;br /&gt; “Oh, I see.”&lt;br /&gt; “You didn’t know that?” I blurted, embarrassed. “Geez, Edward! I don’t go to La Push to bang my boyfriend.” Edward’s eyes flashed with anger and probably embarrassment, but my brashness seemed to ease the tension just a little &lt;br /&gt; “I can’t read your mind, Cammy,” he reminded me.&lt;br /&gt; “Well, wouldn’t you be able to smell… him or something?” I said awkwardly. Edward’s temper faded to a low mortified simmer as he worked his jaw and resisted the urge to groan again.&lt;br /&gt; “You always smell like him. I wouldn’t be able to tell one way or the other,” he said. He plopped down in Jasper’s old chair, surprisingly ungraceful in his exasperation as he raked a hand through his copper colored hair. &lt;br /&gt; “I’m sorry for assuming. That was incredibly rude,” he said. &lt;br /&gt; I waved away his concern. &lt;br /&gt; “It’s not a big deal. After all, I know all intimate details of your relationship,” I said. He closed his eyes, thinking for a moment. “Aren’t you staying the night at Bella’s?”&lt;br /&gt; “I have to pretend to go home for a while before I can sneak back in. Emmett and Esme are watching the house,” he said. Then he gazed at the floor again while he waited for me to settle down. I sat cross legged on the bed, waiting as he clearly wasn’t finished.&lt;br /&gt; “Unfortunately,” he started. “You’re the only person I know that can really understand Bella’s mind. Why does she want to rush into this?”&lt;br /&gt; “The vampirism or the sex?”&lt;br /&gt; He gave me a tired look. &lt;br /&gt; “I know why she wants to be a vampire. She’s told me a dozen times and I believe her,” he said. I felt my stomach flutter, wondering if I would be breaking some kind of girl code or privacy issues by explaining her thought process.&lt;br /&gt; “Okay,” I said rubbing hand over my neck. “Well, some people… just don’t have any moral qualms with sleeping with your own boyfriend. And society doesn’t exactly frown on that.” &lt;br /&gt; Even as I said the words I realized that I remembered exactly how much I hated dancing around a subject. Somehow this conversation turning out to be even more painful than having The Talk with my own mother.&lt;br /&gt; Edward stared at me, bewildered. &lt;br /&gt; Exasperated again, I rolled my eyes. &lt;br /&gt; “Oh for God’s sake. Even you know how hot you are. You have access to the mind of millions of other teenage minds. Put it together!” I said. Edward didn’t smile at that the way I‘d intended to. In fact he looked mildly disturbed by the fact that Bella had the morals average female teenager.&lt;br /&gt; “Then why not just marry me?” he asked. &lt;br /&gt; “Marriage and sex are not the same thing,” I said. He exhaled in frustration. “It’s probably healthy that you and Bella don’t agree on something. At least, I hope it is because there’s a whole bunch of stuff Paul and I don’t agree on.”&lt;br /&gt; Edward perked at that. &lt;br /&gt; “And are you waiting until marriage?” he asked. Then he suddenly stopped himself, wincing even as he said it. “That was also incredibly rude. You don’t have to answer that. Why are we having this conversation again?”&lt;br /&gt; I held up my hands, refuting any claim to the reason he and I were in this awkward moment. &lt;br /&gt; “You’re the one that brought it up, pal,” I said. &lt;br /&gt; His expression seemed to be stuck in the wincing position. &lt;br /&gt; “You’re entirely right,” he said. “I’m sorry again for springing this on you. It’s just that Alice is distracted, Jasper is worried about her. And Emmett? Well, if you know us like you say you do then you can probably guess how that conversation went.”&lt;br /&gt; “If you resorted to talking to me, then yes, I can imagine.”&lt;br /&gt; It was quiet for a moment and I realized Edward’s initial question had never been answered. I thought about that, remembering what Emily had said over breakfast not that long before.&lt;br /&gt; “I’ve heard that werewolves are exactly like humans in that way,” I said pointedly. Then looked at him until he had no choice but to make eye contact. “But she wants you, Edward. Just because you’re not ready to… well, you know… and Jacob probably would… doesn’t make you any less of a candidate.”&lt;br /&gt; Edward nodded sharply and clearly it had been the direct answer that he had asked for in the first place. He really was taking this competition with Jacob to heart, not that it was quite up to the dirty tricks just yet, but he seemed to be sizing himself up by comparing what the two of them could give Bella.&lt;br /&gt; I thought about Paul and the last time he and had come to a similar impasse. &lt;br /&gt; I understood the need to tell someone without being judged. In my time in Washington I’d completely lost touch with my Californian friends. I probably would be okay talking about this with Emily or Kim, but it was hard to talk about one specific werewolf with all the other ones around all the time.&lt;br /&gt; “I’m not waiting for marriage especially,” I blurted. “I’m just waiting for a moment that feels right.”&lt;br /&gt; Edward started to look pained, wishing that I’d just dropped the topic. Then in a single moment, he seemed to understand that it was something that I needed to say to someone.&lt;br /&gt; He nodded once. &lt;br /&gt; “That’s understandable. In a way, I suppose I am too,” he agreed. &lt;br /&gt; And that was the end of that. Edward stood up, signaling the finality of the conversation. He toward the window, like he was getting ready to say his goodbyes. Then he stopped and blinked. &lt;br /&gt; “This actually wasn’t the reason I originally came here tonight,” he said. &lt;br /&gt; I let out a breath.&lt;br /&gt; “Good, because that’s about all the sex talk I’m good for with you,” I said. Edward ignored that, choosing to continue instead of risk an even lengthier conversation about our significant others.&lt;br /&gt; “I’m afraid the aftermath of what you did to Laurent may come back to haunt you and the dogs,” he said. My thoughts immediately went to my dream. I stared at him, frozen in horror. “Irina.”&lt;br /&gt; “Irina?” I repeated, baffled as for one crazed second I had fears of Laurent coming back from the dead to finish the job he‘d started. Irina really made much more sense and it coincided much better with what Bella had experienced today. “Right. You asked the Denali clan for help today after talking to Jasper about the newborn wars. They said that they would in exchange for you letting them attack the Pack.”&lt;br /&gt; He held up a hand before I could even question him. &lt;br /&gt; “Which we won‘t allow and you know it,” he said. He waited a beat for me to deny it, which I couldn’t of course. “We made it very clear that they do not have that permission and that you, specifically, are under our protection. Irina will not come after you without serious repercussions.”&lt;br /&gt; My brows went up. &lt;br /&gt; “Me? Irina wants to kill me?” &lt;br /&gt; I thought about, suddenly knowing that what Edward was telling me made perfect sense.&lt;br /&gt; “Holy crap, I have my very own Victoria,” I realized out loud. &lt;br /&gt; Edward shook his head. &lt;br /&gt; “She’s a friend and her family promised to respect our wishes,” he said. At my worried look he insisted, “And she will.” I let that go, even though the warning wasn’t going to have me sleeping any easier. &lt;br /&gt; “Okay. Thanks for the heads up, I guess,” I said. &lt;br /&gt; “Thank you for listening to me. I know it was uncomfortable,” Edward said. The way he said made it clear I wasn’t the only uncomfortable one. He paused, thinking of something. He slid his hand in his pocket. &lt;br /&gt; “Emmett gave me what he called an early wedding present for my wedding night,” Edward started to explain. “I won’t go into the details of his theories of desensitization and how it could help Bella and myself, but I have a feeling you may need it more than I do.” &lt;br /&gt; Edward pulled out a small, shiny square and held it up for me to see.  I couldn’t really make out what it was, but he set it clearly on my nightstand before he finished slipping through the window.&lt;br /&gt; “Thanks Edward. Good night,” I said. &lt;br /&gt; Then shut the window behind him and watched him disappear into the tree line. Only then did I really looked to see what the little foil packet he’d left behind was. My eyes widened now that I could see it up close. &lt;br /&gt; “A condom,” I said out loud realizing I shouldn‘t have expected anything less from Emmett. I picked up the packet and really looked at it. “Definitely a gag gift from Emmett.”&lt;br /&gt; Honestly. Why would a vampire need a condom? &lt;br /&gt; What good would it do me?&lt;br /&gt; I thought about that for another moment, opened the night stand drawer and tossed the condom in quickly, slamming it shut after it. Just in case, I thought to myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5936982968092131308-1154281282321626201?l=adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/feeds/1154281282321626201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2011/06/potential-chapter-80-for-puppet-master.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/1154281282321626201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/1154281282321626201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2011/06/potential-chapter-80-for-puppet-master.html' title='Potential Chapter 80 for The Puppet Master'/><author><name>Glitch in the System</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01658663765093980227</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5936982968092131308.post-1033124382389894314</id><published>2009-12-18T05:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-01T12:17:08.797-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Retales-  12/18/09</title><content type='html'>Good morning boys and girls! It's that time of day again (5:48 a.m.) when there's not enough time to work on a chapter and too much time to just fool around on the internet before work. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So gather around for another Christmas Retale!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~*~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's story is: &lt;strong&gt;Seasonal Harrassment&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing to think about while you're shopping for Christmas presents and dealing with the hassle of getting out of the store without being elbowed in the eye by another crazy shopper, is that many of the workers in that store are seasonal workers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I don't know why, but Barnes and Noble likes to hire older people for this job. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And by old, I mean like nursing home escapees. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This seasonal worker is the sweetest old lady, and working beside her I noticed that whenever Magazine Guy walked by she would smile and then... stare at him until he was out of sight. Maybe its just me having a hard time imagining women her age having a libido, but I didn't really put two and two together right away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was training so I was trying to show her how to work a touch screen register (a frustrating task, but again, she was so nice I didn't want discourage her.) She also didn't hear very well. Anyone who knows someone hard of hearing can tell you that often makes them talk very loud. She was definitely one of those people, which I suppose isn't usually a problem when you've got a crowded store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later on in the day, I was trying to show her how to open the register (again) when I realized she wasn't listening. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not in a "say that again, dearie" kind of way. She was distracted. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I glanced up and followed her gaze to see the Magazine Guy pass by the registers again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He nodded in greeting, the truth being that he is a pretty attractive twenty-something year old, and I've watched him walk away before, myself. Seasonal Worker and I smiled back, her own grin being a little bit guilty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the Seasonal Worker turns to me and says in her loud, hard-of-hearing voice, "He's a Cutie Patootie, isn't he?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Magazine Guy stopped so fast that his shoes squeaked on the tile and looked back at us. His ears turned bright red, but she just smiled again. I'm not sure if she knows he heard her or not, but it was good karma, as he was one of the guys giving me grief for the Playboy yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~*~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know. Another old lady story. But nothing weirder than that happened yesterday. Maybe today I'll make Magazine Guy a new name tag with "Cutie Patootie" written on it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5936982968092131308-1033124382389894314?l=adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/feeds/1033124382389894314/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/12/christmas-retales-121809.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/1033124382389894314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/1033124382389894314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/12/christmas-retales-121809.html' title='Christmas Retales-  12/18/09'/><author><name>Glitch in the System</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01658663765093980227</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5936982968092131308.post-5071448791290338250</id><published>2009-12-17T05:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-18T06:12:20.658-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Retales- 12/17/09</title><content type='html'>Happy various holidays everyone!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I know. I haven't updated. Feel free to curse me, but I'm working full time trying to get hell out of my house and working in retail during the last two weeks before Christmas is an absolute hell. I would much prefer a more painless death, but the money is coming in. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saying this, I must tell you that Christmas retail in America brings out the weird in people. The closer you get to Christmas the more frantic people become. And a crowded store full of anxious procrastinators is bound to cause a few. Everyday this week something weird has happened. From the lady in bright pink pants covering the floor with books like tile to the woman throwing ten dollar bills at the cafe worker to guy walking around with an open can of cat food handing out samples.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I've decided to record the weirdest events of the day and post them each morning. Have a seat boys and girls, as I begin the series of Christmas Retales.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~*~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's tale is: &lt;strong&gt;The Old Lady and the Dirty Mag&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    Once upon a time I was at the registers when a little old lady comes up to purchase her item. I start to ring her up doing the usual stuff when I see this little old woman is buying a Playboy calendar. Thinking it was none of my business, I put it aside and gave her the total of the purchase.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;    She started to open her purse, then paused thoughtfully. Then she cocked her head to the side and said, "Where are your Playboy magazines? I couldn't find them." &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;    "We keep them in the back. You have to ask someone that works here to go get it for you," I explained. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    "Why?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    Very patiently, I pretended like the answer wasn't obvious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    "Some people might think the content is too inappropriate to be on display," I said. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    How else did one explain that it was full of naked women?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    Her brow furrowed, clearly not satisfied with the answer, but she nodded understandedly and I continued to put her item in the bag.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;    "If it wouldn't be too much trouble that would be great," she said suddenly. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   I  hesitated. She had said it so offhandedly that I wasn't sure what she was talking about. As she made herself comfortable, leaning an elbow on the counter impatiently, I realized she wanted me to go get her a Playboy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   An epic Christmas line was piling up behind her, but our policy is to tend to the customer. So I stopped what I'm doing and decide to go find this impatient old lady her dirty mag. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;    I went into the backroom where the stock was kept. The stock boys that worked back there are younger guys about in their twenties (and some not too unattractive) and trying to be discreet as I ran around looking for a Playboy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    I couldn't find it anywhere. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    I sighed to myself, knowing I was going to need some help. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;    "Where are the Playboy Magazines?" I finally asked the guys. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    The reaction was predictable.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;    "Yeah!" All the boys said at once. I endured a few razzes, "I didn't know you were into that, Ariana" and "No, no. I understand. You only read it for the articles." &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;    Nudge, nudge. Wink, wink. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;    After that we dug through a few boxes. (Barnes and Noble isn't well known for selling Playboys.) We finally get one and so I go back to my register to ring up the lady. She smiles and thanks me, then suddenly frowns as she sees the cover. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;    "This isn't the latest edition," she complained. I stopped scanning the item and looked up. Suddenly furious she pointed at the magazine. "I already have this one." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    I excused myself again to find the latest issue but it was the only one we had.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;    I ended up not selling it to her, as it wasn't to her liking. So she will have to make do with just the calendar. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The End&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~*~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tis the season, I guess. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The moral of this story is never judge something by its cover... unless, of course, you wanted a more current brand of naked women. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess its not the most interesting work story, but I thought it was weird and I've been feeling the need to complain about people. I'm going to work in about fifteen minutes so I'm bound to have another. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feel free to post your own weird Christmas work stories if you have any. It's kind of fun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5936982968092131308-5071448791290338250?l=adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/feeds/5071448791290338250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/12/christmas-retales-121709.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/5071448791290338250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/5071448791290338250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/12/christmas-retales-121709.html' title='Christmas Retales- 12/17/09'/><author><name>Glitch in the System</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01658663765093980227</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5936982968092131308.post-7683030692667953303</id><published>2009-11-13T05:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-18T06:15:44.826-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Belated Halloween!</title><content type='html'>Whew... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its been hectic. From "The Puppet Master" to "Unfamiliar" and now cowriting something with my best friend and having a falling out with my other best friend of 14 years, I've been going a little crazy trying to catch up with stuff. Not to mention I need to find a new place to live by August and get started with the whole career thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But enough about all that, let's get to the fun stuff.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you may or may not know I'm into ghost hunting, due to an overactive imagination and lack of finding anything else to do on my salary. So my friend Aideen and I are going to Mentryville to do some research on the ghosts of Santa Clarita. Hopefully driving around in the dark will give me inspiration for Cammy's upcoming trip to Seattle. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing scary stuff is hard, especially in writing in first person when YOU have to be scared along with the character. I had fun with Laurent in New Moon (can't wait to watch him eat it in the movie), even if it gave me nightmares when I was writing it. More than once I woke up in the middle of the night swearing that someone was standing at the end of my bed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I listen to music while I write I created a scary playlist. If anyone has any scary song suggestions to wake up my imagination, give me a holler. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peace, love, and soul! You guys are the best!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5936982968092131308-7683030692667953303?l=adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/feeds/7683030692667953303/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/11/happy-belated-halloween.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/7683030692667953303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/7683030692667953303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/11/happy-belated-halloween.html' title='Happy Belated Halloween!'/><author><name>Glitch in the System</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01658663765093980227</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5936982968092131308.post-124610856375801712</id><published>2009-09-17T16:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-18T05:40:54.298-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Daria/Cammy</title><content type='html'>Huflo everyone! Sorry its been so long since I've written. I've been here, there (Vegas) everywhere, and girl drama. Ugh! I'm going back to writing because real drama isn't as fun as fake drama.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sooo...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like reporting that I've found the perfect solution for the lemon fiasco, which is to say that Paul and Cammy (may or may not) get funky and how graphic that (will or will not) be. So I started writing. And it turned out pretty good. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I started some more current chapters, because as fun as lemons are, they are nothing without some literary foreplay. The chapter was pretty good until I realized something odd. The girl wasn't Cammy. She was Daria. For those who don't know, "Daria" is a TV show from MTV I used to be in LOVE with. It was like someone turned me into a character, gave me glasses and then made me interested in politics. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a subtle humor. Lots of sarcasm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But she is much more of a smart ass than Cammy is, and you know something's wrong when Cammy answers a phone call from Jacob saying, "Barney's beanery. How may I help you?" So I kept writing, and the sarcasm didn't let up, and you know what? It WAS kind of Cammy. Maybe I won't have to edit as much as I thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there was Claire, who oddly enough, is based off a two year old girl named Cammy. You wouldn't think two year olds are fun to write for, but they really are. Especially with Quil and you can imagine a screaming toddler instead of actually hearing one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, that was my writing expedition last night. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still can't find New Moon. Still waiting for annoying sister to give it back. Tomorrow hopefully. I need to find a more interesting thing to blog about. Would you guys care if I started lying about my life to make this thing more interesting?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BTW, New Moon trailer is KICK ASS.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5936982968092131308-124610856375801712?l=adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/feeds/124610856375801712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/09/dariacammy.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/124610856375801712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/124610856375801712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/09/dariacammy.html' title='Daria/Cammy'/><author><name>Glitch in the System</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01658663765093980227</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5936982968092131308.post-227477277968907012</id><published>2009-08-11T19:03:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-11T20:56:56.124-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"I Hate This Stupid Town" The Bored have an anthem</title><content type='html'>My friends have started a website about finding things to do when there is nothing to do. It sounds weird, but it makes sense I guess. Like there's nothing on TV or you just want to get out and you have no money to do anything that might be fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This website researches and records information about towns so that people can come up with something to do. They have challenges for anyone to perform and get points for, local ghost stories to investigate, urban legends, and places of interest. So far all they have is stuff for California, but everyone is welcome to add their own areas where they live. Some of it might sound dumb, but if you're bored enough you'll do anything for an adventure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.ihatethisstupidtown.com/"&gt;http://www.ihatethisstupidtown.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's amazing what you can come up with after just cruising the town. Not to mention its fun to freak out looking for legends about ghosts and stuff.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5936982968092131308-227477277968907012?l=adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/feeds/227477277968907012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-hate-this-stupid-town-weve-all-said.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/227477277968907012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/227477277968907012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-hate-this-stupid-town-weve-all-said.html' title='&quot;I Hate This Stupid Town&quot; The Bored have an anthem'/><author><name>Glitch in the System</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01658663765093980227</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5936982968092131308.post-4432979840152709050</id><published>2009-08-09T12:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-11T19:02:50.488-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Let's Talk About Sex Baby</title><content type='html'>So... Last chapter went over pretty well. That was good since it was kind of borderline lemony. There's this weird anxiety I get before and after I post every chapter. Sometimes I had add things that I just cringe when I think about later. I think every author does. It's things like that that make me hesitate. I'm trying to get over that so that there isn't a weird stand-still in updates anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been avoiding writing about certain topics in the story. Sex is one of them. I don't think I'm very good at writing fluffy scenes, so forget about sex scenes. You can't really be sure how you'll be received. Unfortunately with writing, you're going to go from the beginning of the event to the end without someone to stop and correct you if you're starting to do something they're not comfortable with. (Can you guess how many people I've been with just by reading this?) I love romances and writing them, but when it comes to the big moment it can turn into a complete flop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there's that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~*~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other thing that's kind of been driving me a little crazy is the Breaking Dawn thing. Not the issue itself. That I've resolved, but the people that want to know about it. If you haven't already guessed, I LOVE surprising people. I totally thrive off of a shock value.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I also have a really big mouth. I WANT to tell everyone what I'm going to do about the Breaking Dawn issue. It's so hard not to reply every reviewer and tell them how this story is going to end. I've told my whole family over and over because I'm excited for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure I'll be singing a different tune later. Its before I actually act on my ideas that I think they are absolutely brilliant. Then when it comes time to do it I always second guess myself and think maybe my idea is not that good and I'll get a bunch of WTF emails.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only one way to find out, I guess.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5936982968092131308-4432979840152709050?l=adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/feeds/4432979840152709050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/08/lets-talk-about-sex-baby.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/4432979840152709050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/4432979840152709050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/08/lets-talk-about-sex-baby.html' title='Let&apos;s Talk About Sex Baby'/><author><name>Glitch in the System</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01658663765093980227</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5936982968092131308.post-3586673838832111796</id><published>2009-07-08T19:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T11:26:11.140-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Forks Trip: Part Deux</title><content type='html'>The cabin we had was pretty awesome. It had HUGE rooms and a river in the back. I stupidly opted for sleeping on the floor in Washington with nothing but a pillow and a quilt, so I was freezing my ass off the night before. There was a deck in the back overlooking a river. It was beautiful. I had gotten a notebook so I had a few writing experiments I wanted to try out. I had lots of time to mess around with the Twilight Moms. They are absolutely beautiful, like Rosalie status. So they were never out of the bathroom before three in the afternoon and we broke electric circuits every single day we were there from all the people trying to blow dry their hair at once. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the other hand, I'm a lot like Cammy. If my friends would let me I would run around town in my pajamas too. So we had a lot of time to meander, go into town and come back to check to see if they were ready yet, and then head out again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forks thrives on Twilight, and therefore loves Twilighters. Again, I was shocked because you'd think the people there would be sick of all the people looking for Edwards and Jacobs. But they were always very nice and asked us where we were from. Then again the population is probably desensitized to the attention by now. The place is CRAWLING with fans. Every single time we drove by the Forks sign there were multiple cars parked on the side of the road taking pictures. That's not to see we weren't one of them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p9MYIFAG-VA/SlVZD0R2YNI/AAAAAAAAAAk/cgXmaYOK89E/s1600-h/jackie+in+forks.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 130px; height: 97px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p9MYIFAG-VA/SlVZD0R2YNI/AAAAAAAAAAk/cgXmaYOK89E/s400/jackie+in+forks.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356285253935063250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(That's me being silly and excited because we'd just gotten there. I know. You can hardly see anything, but you have to climb a little to get to it so Tiff was on the ground taking the pic.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every business there had something Twilight related, like the Bella Burger. Or a giant Twilight stand in the middle of the grocery store, or the motel sign that says "Edward didn't sleep here!" glowing in the night. Or a particularly hilarious one in La Push that said, "No vampires beyond this point!" Then of course there were stores that had nothing but Twilight paraphenalia inside. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So like I said the place is crawling with fellow Twilighters. So imagine my surprise when I look out the window and see Jasper, Alice, Edward, and Bella walking by. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No. Seriously. They were just walking by like nothing was out of place. I had to make sure I hadn't lost my mind so I was like, "Hey look." Donna and Tiff, who happened to be driving, were like "Oh my god!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we promptly pulled the car over and stalked them into drug store. Alice and Jasper were wearing the baseball uniforms and everything. Edward had his cool "shades" on and Bella was absolutely freaked out that we were following them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I got the whole Cammy experience. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am incredibly shy and have this fear of talking to people who are famous or resemble famous people. I can't even talk to the characters at Disneyland, let alone hug them. But Donna, being Donna, tracked them down and asked to get a picture with them. They were so cool. They had the contacts to change their eye colors and everything. And they were surprised that we actually approached them. Seriously, I thought Forks had hired them to be impersonators or something. Even I couldn't pass up an opportunity like this. So I got a picture too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p9MYIFAG-VA/SlYt19N9S4I/AAAAAAAAAB8/0vmYPaZhThA/s1600-h/Jackie+and+the+Twilight+gang+big.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p9MYIFAG-VA/SlYt19N9S4I/AAAAAAAAAB8/0vmYPaZhThA/s400/Jackie+and+the+Twilight+gang+big.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356519211793206146" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See? I'm all flustered and they're just people dressed up. I'm such a dork. Ladies and fancy gentlemen, tell me the Jasper guy isn't cute. Then they told us that they had done a Twilight parody on youtube. I'm working on getting a sample to put up here so you guys can check them out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2MKz0gkcgAo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it is my recommendation that you pile your best friends in a car and visit Forks. It's definitely worth it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p9MYIFAG-VA/SlYzMfq7GvI/AAAAAAAAACc/q7z7X8Tl1YE/s1600-h/BFFF.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p9MYIFAG-VA/SlYzMfq7GvI/AAAAAAAAACc/q7z7X8Tl1YE/s400/BFFF.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356525096556763890" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Above: Donna, me, and Tiff)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5936982968092131308-3586673838832111796?l=adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/feeds/3586673838832111796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/07/forks-trip-part-2.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/3586673838832111796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/3586673838832111796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/07/forks-trip-part-2.html' title='The Forks Trip: Part Deux'/><author><name>Glitch in the System</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01658663765093980227</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p9MYIFAG-VA/SlVZD0R2YNI/AAAAAAAAAAk/cgXmaYOK89E/s72-c/jackie+in+forks.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5936982968092131308.post-9054958014903944736</id><published>2009-07-08T19:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T11:26:44.948-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Forks Trip: Part One</title><content type='html'>Well, its been a while since I've been back to Forks. I should have updated sooner, but the thing is that there are some things about Forks that is a lot different than the books and The Puppet Master. For one: it is incredibly hard to find cell phone service. And two: its even harder to find WiFi. If Cammy lived in the real Forks she would be out of luck when it came to calling for back up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of the real Forks, I should probably tell you about it since many people don't get the opportunity to see it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p9MYIFAG-VA/SlYr_g3n33I/AAAAAAAAABs/EDKLu5C49Ok/s1600-h/miles+to+forks+big.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p9MYIFAG-VA/SlYr_g3n33I/AAAAAAAAABs/EDKLu5C49Ok/s400/miles+to+forks+big.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356517176958771058" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got there about fivish after a few wrong turns and squabbling around directions and driving with the "check engine" light on. But we made it all the same. Forks is a very... er, linear town. Really, its practically all on one street which also happens to be the 101 freeway. There's about one of everything there. Bank, grocery store, burger stand, hardware store, and maybe a few hotels. There's probably more rivers than actual streets in the town. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We met up with some Twilight Moms I met through the fanfic and we shared an absolutely beautiful cabin. But the first thing we had to do was go to La Push. To get to La Push, all you need to do is turn on La Push Road (No. I'm not kidding.) and follow it all the way to the beach. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p9MYIFAG-VA/SlYsbDrSW-I/AAAAAAAAAB0/K8wOluDDysE/s1600-h/cuz+its+la+push+big.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p9MYIFAG-VA/SlYsbDrSW-I/AAAAAAAAAB0/K8wOluDDysE/s400/cuz+its+la+push+big.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356517650158738402" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just a straight shot through the woods, which is actually really close to what I pictured. We hung out and bought a whole bunch of souvenirs in their visitors center. The Quileutes we ran into were very cool to us. It was sort of surprising because I half expected them to see us, roll their eyes and say, "Oh god. More Twilighters." But we actually hung out and talked for a while. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p9MYIFAG-VA/SlYqi08_DSI/AAAAAAAAABk/_z--DPTCqFQ/s1600-h/donna+in+la+push+big.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p9MYIFAG-VA/SlYqi08_DSI/AAAAAAAAABk/_z--DPTCqFQ/s400/donna+in+la+push+big.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356515584622136610" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Above: Donna representin' Forks in La Push)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p9MYIFAG-VA/SlYqCHyEgvI/AAAAAAAAABc/FUs8u7dZEKA/s1600-h/driftwood+big.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p9MYIFAG-VA/SlYqCHyEgvI/AAAAAAAAABc/FUs8u7dZEKA/s400/driftwood+big.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356515022740947698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Above: Me and Donna trying to walk on driftwood in First Beach. Yes. She's wearing a skirt. Dork.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We concluded the day by going to First Beach and having our own little bonfire, which was really nice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least until the drunk pervs showed up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If there were ever a time for a shiny Volvo to come whipping around the corner that would have been it. But alas, even if there were vampires there would be nothing they could do about us being in peril in La Push. Which just adds to the proof that I've read these books way too many times. So we ran them off ourselves. Keep in mind these weren't Quileutes. They were guys from some town nearby, one of which looked a LOT like John Lennon, oddly enough. The important thing was that we escaped. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that was just day one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5936982968092131308-9054958014903944736?l=adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/feeds/9054958014903944736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/07/forks-trip-part-i.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/9054958014903944736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/9054958014903944736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/07/forks-trip-part-i.html' title='The Forks Trip: Part One'/><author><name>Glitch in the System</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01658663765093980227</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p9MYIFAG-VA/SlYr_g3n33I/AAAAAAAAABs/EDKLu5C49Ok/s72-c/miles+to+forks+big.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5936982968092131308.post-833373612410296924</id><published>2009-06-25T07:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T11:10:21.007-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Its a good day to be a vampire.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p9MYIFAG-VA/SlYyJ4xUTFI/AAAAAAAAACU/6QRUlmDqQuE/s1600-h/me+and+the+real+aunt+debbie.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p9MYIFAG-VA/SlYyJ4xUTFI/AAAAAAAAACU/6QRUlmDqQuE/s400/me+and+the+real+aunt+debbie.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356523952243231826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Above: The back of my and Aunt Debbie's head.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, the clouds are dark and the rain is pounding outside. While Aunt Debbie is apologizing for the horrid weather, Donna, Tiff and I are jumping in puddles. We're from the desert! Rain is a rare thing to come by in LA. All the Oregonians looked at us like we're insane. I mean, we're twenty-one and kicking gutter water at each other, but it was fun. Guess we're just a bunch of obnoxious Californians when we travel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We didn't get to see the places where Twilight was filmed while we were in Portland. I recognized the school because I used to live around there and the Columbia River Gorge will have to wait. I've seen it a couple million times, but my friends haven't and it never gets old. Maybe on the way back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;::sigh::&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love Oregon. We've started to wonder how much our families would mind if we just didn't go home. Tiffany's mom would probably mind since we took her car. So we should probably go home eventually. Oh yeah, and there's work and stuff. I should get back to that too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How depressing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the bright side!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p9MYIFAG-VA/SlYyJcYqfcI/AAAAAAAAACM/0Eb9S4kLq3E/s1600-h/scary+bridge+to+washington.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p9MYIFAG-VA/SlYyJcYqfcI/AAAAAAAAACM/0Eb9S4kLq3E/s400/scary+bridge+to+washington.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356523944623635906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today we FINALLY set off for THE Forks. It looks like the weather's going to be "horrid" so it should be awesome! I'm looking out the window at Haystack Rock right now. This place is like a really ritzy La Push and after sitting on a piece of driftwood on the beach with friends its got my mind working, thinking of Jacob and Bella. I'm going to see how much writing I can get done before we head out again while my head is in Twilight mode. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shit. I just realized that I probably should have brought the books with me so I can have a reference. Haha! I forgot the books! I just pulled a Cammy. Luckily I live in a world where there is more than one copy of the Twilight books. Back to work!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p9MYIFAG-VA/SlYyJAof-VI/AAAAAAAAACE/jpVnJ_ism7A/s1600-h/Washington+baby!+big.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p9MYIFAG-VA/SlYyJAof-VI/AAAAAAAAACE/jpVnJ_ism7A/s400/Washington+baby!+big.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356523937173862738" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See? Totally a good day to be a vampire.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5936982968092131308-833373612410296924?l=adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/feeds/833373612410296924/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/06/its-good-day-to-be-vampire.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/833373612410296924'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/833373612410296924'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/06/its-good-day-to-be-vampire.html' title='Its a good day to be a vampire.'/><author><name>Glitch in the System</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01658663765093980227</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p9MYIFAG-VA/SlYyJ4xUTFI/AAAAAAAAACU/6QRUlmDqQuE/s72-c/me+and+the+real+aunt+debbie.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5936982968092131308.post-5616081474397932213</id><published>2009-06-24T10:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-25T07:27:33.824-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When it comes to choosing between a trash can or a toilet, pick the toilet.</title><content type='html'>Well, yesterday I got sick. It was pretty gross. Especially since our hotel doesn't have a dumpster or anything and I puked in a trash basket and had to dump the remnants in a toilet and clean everything. Nice. Sorry if that's TMI but that was my day yesterday. Luckily Aunt Debbie is a goddess and she helped me clean it up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The car will be fixed on Thursday at no expense to us. We totally lucked out, and aunt debbie is letting us stay another day.(Again. Total goddess.) Today we go shopping for a thank you gift and then bonfire on the beach. You can't really expect much more with my luck and all things considered it could be much much much worse.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5936982968092131308-5616081474397932213?l=adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/feeds/5616081474397932213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/06/when-it-comes-to-choosing-between-trash.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/5616081474397932213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/5616081474397932213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/06/when-it-comes-to-choosing-between-trash.html' title='When it comes to choosing between a trash can or a toilet, pick the toilet.'/><author><name>Glitch in the System</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01658663765093980227</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5936982968092131308.post-8050325121806218196</id><published>2009-06-23T07:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T11:34:08.240-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Any nice mechanics in Oregon out there?</title><content type='html'>So... We're still at Cannon Beach in Oregon with a still broken car. We're going to have to use our womanly ways to fix it. By womanly ways, I mean dressing like a slut. The cop that pulled us over caught us offguard but today the mechanic won't know what hit him. Hopefully. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's what we're going today. Somehow, someway, we might end up drunk again like the last two nights, but isn't that what vacations are for? It was just crazy waking up in front of haystack rock. I thought I had fallen asleep outside because we have this crazy awesome view. Now to get on with the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p9MYIFAG-VA/SlY4D3tKIKI/AAAAAAAAACk/LreFhDbSoiE/s1600-h/haystack+rock+big.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p9MYIFAG-VA/SlY4D3tKIKI/AAAAAAAAACk/LreFhDbSoiE/s400/haystack+rock+big.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356530445947904162" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5936982968092131308-8050325121806218196?l=adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/feeds/8050325121806218196/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/06/any-nice-mechanics-in-oregon-out-there.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/8050325121806218196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/8050325121806218196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/06/any-nice-mechanics-in-oregon-out-there.html' title='Any nice mechanics in Oregon out there?'/><author><name>Glitch in the System</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01658663765093980227</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p9MYIFAG-VA/SlY4D3tKIKI/AAAAAAAAACk/LreFhDbSoiE/s72-c/haystack+rock+big.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5936982968092131308.post-4628170103457049917</id><published>2009-06-22T22:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-22T22:23:57.879-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Of course we break the car...</title><content type='html'>We broke the car. We're not sure what we did, but the engine light came on. So here we are... Welcome to Cannon Beach. Its amazing how a few hundred miles completely changes the scenery. The sun sets at NINE o'clock. Can you believe that? Also, bonfires are legal here, so now we don't have to have illegal bonfires. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for the writing, its getting better. I just got into a little slump, but the alcohol and laughing with friends has loosened me up a bit and now my mind is free to wander without stress. Minus the car thing. Donna and Tiff are freaking out, but I've had my car breakdown in the middle of the 405 during traffic hour. I think we'll be fine. I'll tell you something though, the one CD we've listened to about four hours is getting a bit old, but I think we'll manage. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Catch you up later. Tomorrow we have to fix the car, but soon we'll be in Forks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5936982968092131308-4628170103457049917?l=adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/feeds/4628170103457049917/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/06/of-course-we-break-car.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/4628170103457049917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/4628170103457049917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/06/of-course-we-break-car.html' title='Of course we break the car...'/><author><name>Glitch in the System</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01658663765093980227</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5936982968092131308.post-7350258948534938317</id><published>2009-06-22T09:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-22T09:47:47.724-07:00</updated><title type='text'>With love from Portland,Oregon</title><content type='html'>I'm going to Forks pretty soon! Right now I'm in Portland Oregon with the real Aunt Debbie and Uncle Bob. They took us in, fed us until we were about to explode, got us a little wasted on one glass of wine (it was a helluva wine), and let us spend the night. We are happy girls. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday we drove up from LA to Portland. We got a speeding ticket (damn radar planes!) So much for our police radar. Now we have to go shopping (whoo... kill me...) BUT we get to go to Powell's bookstore, the place where I want my ashes scattered after I die. It will be a magical day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry if this lacks coherency. I literally just rolled out of bed... or couch. My friends want to attack the computer. So there will probably be updates later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5936982968092131308-7350258948534938317?l=adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/feeds/7350258948534938317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/06/with-love-from-portlandoregon.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/7350258948534938317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/7350258948534938317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/06/with-love-from-portlandoregon.html' title='With love from Portland,Oregon'/><author><name>Glitch in the System</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01658663765093980227</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5936982968092131308.post-5627653937657125665</id><published>2009-06-09T11:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-09T11:34:22.928-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ADD</title><content type='html'>I'm writing... I'm writing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh! Look! A butterfly! No, no. Don't get distracted. I need a new chapter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm writing... I'm writing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey! That guy I was dating texted me again. Awesome! Oh wait, I should be writing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm writing... I'm writing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friends are here! Maybe I'll hang out for a little bit and then get back to work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm writing... I'm writing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work wants me to come in. Damn, I guess I need the money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Try writing again...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damn it! I can't focus!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5936982968092131308-5627653937657125665?l=adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/feeds/5627653937657125665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/06/add.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/5627653937657125665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/5627653937657125665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/06/add.html' title='ADD'/><author><name>Glitch in the System</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01658663765093980227</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5936982968092131308.post-3081928291371726329</id><published>2009-06-03T16:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T16:20:59.032-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Breaking Dawn problem just won't stop making my life hell.</title><content type='html'>So I was procrastinating again, not writing about Cammy writing another essay, but just writing something that is chapters and chapters into the future about the BD problem and then it got really good. I kept writing and writing thinking "YES! This must happen in the story. It is too awesome!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left the window up and went into the other room to take a nap (because like I said, I was procrastinating.) Then I wake up and it has disappeared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate computers. FML &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well. I'm going to have to write it again. Oh yeah. And finish my finals too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5936982968092131308-3081928291371726329?l=adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/feeds/3081928291371726329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/06/breaking-dawn-problem-just-wont-stop.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/3081928291371726329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/3081928291371726329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/06/breaking-dawn-problem-just-wont-stop.html' title='The Breaking Dawn problem just won&apos;t stop making my life hell.'/><author><name>Glitch in the System</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01658663765093980227</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5936982968092131308.post-163108543465883539</id><published>2009-06-02T17:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T17:55:08.024-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My run-in with a Chester</title><content type='html'>So... I took my final and that went... um... Well the point is I took my final and that class is over! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that didn't stop me from having an incident on the way, of course. There is some guy in my class that talks to me sometimes and he'd always been cool I guess. But yesterday as I have my book in front of me and I'm trying to talk to him and study at the same time he asks me if I want a muscle relaxer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At first I thought he was joking and me being stressed out, started to joke back. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh yeah. I could use one."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he pulls out a giant perscription bottle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah. WTF? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I quickly back tracked and said no, because even if I wanted to, I'm about to take a final. I &lt;em&gt;kind of &lt;/em&gt;need all of my attention span for that. But more importantly, &lt;strong&gt;I'm not going to take drugs from a guy on the last day I'm ever going to see him! &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then after my insistent refusal he asked if I wanted a gummy bear. I told him no and he tried to talk me into it. Like he was &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; trying to get me to eat a gummy bear after offering me drugs which was making me super paranoid. I mean, who knows. It could be some drugged up gummy bear. I don't know. I was getting creepy vibes and was sort of panicking a litte. So I made up this story about having a traumatic incident getting my hand stuck in a vending machine trying to steal a packet of gummy bears, and that ever since that incident I had this aversion to gummy bears. Because a packet of gummy bears can give someone post-traumatic stress. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, not the best lie I've ever come up with, but I was on the spot and I had to say something. At least he bought my excuse. Or he realized I was just going to keep coming up with reasons not to take his stuff until he left me alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess the moral of this story is don't take drugs or gummy bears from strangers, kids.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5936982968092131308-163108543465883539?l=adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/feeds/163108543465883539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/06/run-in-with-chester.html#comment-form' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/163108543465883539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/163108543465883539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/06/run-in-with-chester.html' title='My run-in with a Chester'/><author><name>Glitch in the System</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01658663765093980227</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5936982968092131308.post-2040292798336513780</id><published>2009-06-02T00:21:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T00:37:23.067-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"I'll sleep when I'm undead, sir!"</title><content type='html'>(Or to be more specific to Twilight, "I'll never sleep again when I'm undead sir!" Or something like that. Damn. I messed up that parody pretty bad. Never mind. Forget the title.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is it that EVERY time inspiration hits I have to be busy? I just came up with a character that I like for Brown Harvest and I have to go to bed because I have to be up at five in the morning. And then I can't sleep. I just keep thinking about it and he's just so... ugh! I don't know! But he's going to be fun to write for because he's such an awesome A-hole. BUT I have to be at work in the morning and then spend the day doing my online class so I REALLY don't have time for this right now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now I keep on thinking of things for him to say, none of them very nice, yet he still maintains his coolness. OH! This gives a good opportunity for the main character to be all snarky at him and verbally kick him in the nuts and piss him off. Damn it! Damn it! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate sleep! Sleep is stupid! I want to be a vampire just so I don't have to sleep anymore and I can get everything done! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;::sigh::&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay. I'm done venting.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5936982968092131308-2040292798336513780?l=adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/feeds/2040292798336513780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/06/ill-sleep-when-im-undead-sir.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/2040292798336513780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/2040292798336513780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/06/ill-sleep-when-im-undead-sir.html' title='&quot;I&apos;ll sleep when I&apos;m undead, sir!&quot;'/><author><name>Glitch in the System</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01658663765093980227</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5936982968092131308.post-6240647629707558982</id><published>2009-06-01T17:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T06:40:06.502-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Brown Harvest is underway.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p9MYIFAG-VA/SiR1OHwyAhI/AAAAAAAAAAc/W20Eer3AscQ/s1600-h/fanboys.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 88px; height: 135px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p9MYIFAG-VA/SiR1OHwyAhI/AAAAAAAAAAc/W20Eer3AscQ/s400/fanboys.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342523943430521362" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First order of business is for any Star Wars fans out there. Watch Fanboys. Seriously. Do it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find it especially hilarious because its about a bunch of crazy Star Wars guys going to Skywalker Ranch, and this summer me and a bunch crazy girls are going to Forks for our own little fandom party. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't freakin' wait!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My girls (Donna and Tiffany) and I just bought underwear for the trip. We're going to write something nerdy on the butt and moon people on the 5 freeway. Press cam! Not that you needed to know that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second, finals will be officially over on Thursday and I can start writing again for real. But I'm also excited to go hunting for locations for my original piece which I am officially calling Operation: Brown Harvest. Any Star Wars fans will get that. I'm checking out a high school for some inspiration, but even closed I'm not sure if people are allowed there. Maybe I'll go anyway. I haven't been in a traditional high school in five years. And of course I will also be doing Puppet Master work. Its been too long without a chapter, but I need to take one day celebrating me not having to pound text book material in my brain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Puppet Master sometimes has the same effect on me as finals does, but only when I start thinking about the Breaking Dawn problem or cringing about parts of the story that I don't like. Somtimes I wish this fanfiction had a reset button. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second to last final is in ten minutes. See as how I simply FORGOT to attend the midterm, its pretty crucial that I go to this class so I better get going. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and by the way...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE NEW MOON MOVIE IS GOING TO BE AWESOME! (At least it better be or a horde of Twilighters will trample the director.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5936982968092131308-6240647629707558982?l=adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/feeds/6240647629707558982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/06/brown-harvest-is-underway.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/6240647629707558982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/6240647629707558982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/06/brown-harvest-is-underway.html' title='Brown Harvest is underway.'/><author><name>Glitch in the System</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01658663765093980227</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p9MYIFAG-VA/SiR1OHwyAhI/AAAAAAAAAAc/W20Eer3AscQ/s72-c/fanboys.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5936982968092131308.post-3150138557780911919</id><published>2009-05-29T13:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-29T13:29:56.819-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cue the theme to Bonanza</title><content type='html'>Now that you all know how crazy I am I will go on to say that I'm procrastinating again, and this time using the blog. The previous essay was actually from last year. This year I'm a lot less stressed out and it was Paul helping write the essay, not me. However, I got this great idea (if I do say so myself) and accidentally wrote a future chapter. Well, at least part of one. I won't add the part about writing an essay because &lt;strong&gt;a)&lt;/strong&gt; I'm quite fond of Cammy and I would never inflict that on her and &lt;strong&gt;b)&lt;/strong&gt; Cammy isn't in school anymore (lucky bitch)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So because I'm kind of getting into this whole blogging thing I'll give another exclusive sneak preview for that too. This one actually has a LOT less to do with the whole essay portion. I don't know why my brain has to be attempting to multitask to get anything done, but it does. In the middle of writing this I got the blue screen of desk and after a half hour of yelling at the computer, trying desperately to hurt its feelings, I gave up, sat down, and just wrote the essay:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cammy, Paul, and The Common Theme of Four Movies&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “Nora, my little bird!” Someone was quoting &lt;em&gt;A Doll's House &lt;/em&gt;and when I woke up. My brows furrowed in confusion and annoyance, but since I recognized the voice I was willing to roll over and squint at the sun coming in through my window. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;            No vampires today.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            I stepped on the hardwood floor and walked over to the window. Paul was there, the big morning person he was with his hands on his hips in a Peter Pan pose in pajama pants. I cocked my head to the side and yanked the window up. It glided effortlessly. If it weren’t for my very own vampire security system I would be worried about burglars. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “What are you doing?” I asked him. He grinned. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “Making school more tolerable,” he said. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “By quoting the play we already covered earlier in the semester?” I asked. He loped forward, his height matching mine even with me being higher up inside the house. He greeted with a kiss. I grimaced in embarrassment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “Sorry, I stink. Let me brush my teeth first,” I said going red. He rolled his eyes at my flush. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “You smell great. You know, aside from the bloodsucker stench,” he said. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “What are you doing here?” I asked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “Your final essay is due tomorrow,” he said. I smiled weakly sensing that this was the reason that he was going to have to make a quick exit. But he was still smiling which meant he couldn’t be leaving. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “Get your notes. We’re going to go work on it,” he said. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “You’re going to help me write a seven page essay?” I asked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “You bet your cute little ass. Actually, I don’t really know anything about movies so I don’t know how much I can help, but I’m here to motivate you. I know how you stress the day before something’s due. Get your text book and laptop. It’s charged, right?” he asked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            I blinked in shock. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “You’re serious?” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            He reached up and placed his hands on either side of my face, warming me instantly. His touch was feverish and smooth. The liquid heat melted straight to my chest making my heart swell with familiar happiness. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “I’ll meet you out back. I have a surprise for you,” he said. He waggled his black brows up and down suggestively. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            Officially intrigued I tried not to look too eager as I shut the window and grabbed a fresh pair of clothes. It was warmer, the famous Eclipse storm still far off on the horizon. I settled for a beige long sleeve shirt and a light brown jacket. Knowing Paul wouldn’t care, I put on a fresh pair of black pajama pants. I’d taken a shower the night before so I figured the rest of me would smell just fine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            I brushed out my hair, took care of my breath, and a dash of deodorant. I grabbed my laptop, a few papers, and the stupid text book that I loathed. I burst from the screen door onto the last step. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            The green backyard was empty. There were clouds off in the distance tumbling over the northern mountain range. There was an empty square of dirt where the shed used to be and the flower bed was in full bloom, swaying in the slight breeze. Where was my werewolf?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “Paul?” I called out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            It was impossible to miss the giant monster come around the side of the house. It shocked me at first. It was not a side of Paul I was used to seeing very often. He slowed his pace and looked at me. I had to pause to admire the werewolf form. It was a majestic thing to behold. Even standing on all fours he was a head taller than me. His fur was as long as you would expect a wolf’s to be. If this was how long his fur was when his hair was as short as it was I wondered exactly how shaggy Jacob was. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            He smiled a doggy smile, tongue hanging out and panting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            I hadn’t realized how tense I was. Seeing an animal this size was sure to make any creature on edge, even vampires. He must have sensed this because he stepped toward me and licked my cheek. I backed away cringing and wiping the spit off on my hand. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “You’re disgusting,” I said. He nudged me with his nose and turned around toward the edge of the yard. I hopped into step with him, and he slowed so he could find my pace compared to his. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “Why did you phase?” I asked. I looked around realizing that if Eric or any of my other neighbors were to peek over they would see exactly what the bear scare a couple months ago had been all about. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            Paul grumbled an incoherent response as we crossed the threshold from the edge of the yard to the beginning of the forest. Since I obviously wasn’t getting a response I paused to stuff my things in my laptop bag that was bursting at the zipped with all the crap inside. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            I looked up and Paul had stopped. His down eyes watched me with eerie intensity. If I didn’t know him better it would have worried me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “What?” I laughed to ease the tension. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            He blinked and then turned his head toward the forest. I followed his gaze. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “I don’t get it.” He sighed frustrated with our communication problem as much as I was. Then he crouched down, his belly almost touching the ground. He looked at me and then flicked his head in the direction of my back. I narrowed my eyes in concentration as I tried to decipher what it must be that he was trying to say. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “Where’s Edward when you need him? I have no idea what you’re trying to say,” I said. He grumbled a little, the sound like a dog trying to mutter something under his breath, but lacking the words. He flicked his head again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            I looked at his back. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            A gasp escaped me and I clapped my hands over my mouth in shock. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “I can ride on your back?” I asked hopefully. He stared at me confirming my guess. I touched my chest, hope realized. The smile across my face was too wide with my unbridled happiness. Then to my utter embarrassment I squealed in a high pitched voice, “Are you serious?” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            He nodded. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “Oh Paul!” I ran into his body to hug him at full speed. It was nothing like smacking into a stone cold vampire. He felt like any seven foot wolf would, warm and fuzzy. I wrapped my arms around his neck and squeezed. “I knew you’d come around.” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            Actually that was a lie. I’d stopped pestering Paul about me riding him ever since more serious problems made this particular argument insignificant. I grabbed his huge head, forgetting his sharp teeth and the fact that when he was a killer in this form, and kissed his right on top of his muzzle. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “You… What made you change your mind?” I asked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            He gave me a look. Oh yeah. He couldn’t talk. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “Right. Later,” I said. He lowered his body as I swung my laptop bag over my side and stepped back. There seemed to be no graceful way to get on a werewolf, so I clambered way, too wary that I might accidentally kick him in the stomach or something. This was a stupid concern because he was a werewolf clearly built to withstand a vampire attack. A crowbar attack hadn’t even scared him, my fumbling wasn’t going to hurt him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            It took some squirming and I could feel Paul straining not to laugh beneath me, but eventually I made it up his back. He stood up too quickly. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “Whoa.” I leaned forward and grabbed the thicker fur around his neck. He started to walk forward. I smiled. Somehow I thought that maybe this would be like running with Laurent or Victoria. This was much different. Paul trusted me to hold onto him as he gracefully loped over tree branches and through the moist dirt. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            It wasn’t childish like a pony ride like I thought it might me. I didn’t teeter or bounce with every step like horse trotting. Werewolves were much too grateful for that. It was just a straight smooth trip through the forest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “I can’t believe this,” I told Paul with a laugh. “This is amazing!” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            He barked out a laugh. Since I there was no turbulence I leaned forward and ran my fingers deeper through his fur. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “Can you go faster? I don’t think I’m going to fall,” I asked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            Paul slowed. I frowned, thinking maybe he was trying to annoy me on purpose. Then I looked ahead. The trees were thinning. We had come to a grassy plain that I’d never seen before. Paul growled playfully. His muscles wound tight. He wiggled purposefully, preparing to spring. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “What are you doing?” I asked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            He froze and swung his massive head to look at me. Then he winked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            I realized the message he was trying to give me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            Hold on tight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            I obeyed and clenched my fingers tighter into his fur. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            And he shot off across the plains. I screamed in fear at first and then when I remembered that with a werewolf’s grace I was in no danger of bouncing off, it broke off into excited laughter. It was like being in a sling shot, floating across the land at impossible speeds. I’d never imagined a werewolf’s speed matching a vampire’s for whatever reason, but they were evenly matched as far as I could tell. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            He slowed to a jog, then to a trot before he came to a complete stop below an old winding tree on the edge of the plains. The leaves were in full bloom like the rest of the vegetation. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            He lowered his body and my laughter started to fade. My smile was still there. I liked when I could that despite everything in Twilight was real life, and should be taken seriously, it was still fun to play with a werewolf. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            I swung my leg around, trying to position myself to land neatly on my feet, but being me I gave up and just rolled over and landed on my butt. Paul immediately turned and sniffed me over for injuries. I pushed his nose away and picked myself up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “I’m fine,” I said. He stepped back as I checked my laptop to make sure that everything was in order. “That was by far the coolest thing I have ever done.” His mouth opened to make another odd looking grin flashing his deadly teeth in a manner that must have been an attempt at playfulness. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            I laughed when his tail started to wag. He bound forward in a way that was more suiting for a puppy that a gigantic monster and licked me again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “Paul! Seriously, that’s weird!” I laughed wiping my cheek on my sleeve. He bounded away into the tall grass before I could complain any more. “Where are you going?” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            He disappeared into the brush. I could see his head over the tips of the swaying grass. He smiled a doggy smile one more time. I took that as reassurance. He ducked his head and in less than a minute he trotted back through the grass to the clearing under the tree where I stood. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            He was back looking like his own human self again. My cheeks were hurting from smiling so much, but I couldn’t help it when I saw him again. He had a pair of men’s pajama pants I’d never seen before. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            I giggled. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “What?” he asked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “We match,” I said pointing to my own pj’s. He didn’t get it, but he still came up to me, resting his hands on my own hips. He smiled down at me. “Thank you. That was so much fun.” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “You’re welcome,” he said. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            The moment became heavy as we leaned forward for a kiss. I was still feeling playful though. I dodged to the side for his cheek and licked him. He jerked away. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “Cam!” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “Yeah. Gross, isn’t it?” I said. He laughed a booming laugh and wiped his cheek. He looked down at me and then shook his head. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “Alright. I will not lick you anymore,” he said. Then as an afterthought he added, “Without permission.” An awkward pause followed. He seemed as shocked as I was that he’d said that out loud. He looked at me to gage my response. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “You’ve been spending too much time in Quil’s head,” I said. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “I totally agree,” he said. His smile brightened to a phony one. “Now let’s do your essay.” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            I lost all expression immediately. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “Killjoy,” I insulted. He sighed heavily, clearly as excited as I was to start my essay. I turned around and rolled my eyes like a five year old. He put one hand on each shoulder, thumbs working into my muscles. Instant irritation killer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            Suck up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “What’s it about?” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “You don’t care,” I griped. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “Wrong. I care about everything you do.” I looked at him over my shoulder wondering why that sounded so familiar, but he kept steering me toward the base of the tree. I wrapped my laptop bag around me and started to unzip it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “I have to compare four movies to find a common theme,” I said. Paul feigned interest pretty well, but I couldn’t imagine this assignment being at all imperative to him. “I need five sources. Four reviews and the text book.” Everything spilled out of my bag onto the ground. As Paul and I bent down to gather that and the reviews I’d printed out, I wondered if they would discount the book when I tried to sell it back with dirt stains on it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            He sat down against the tree and motioned for me to sit in front of him. It was reminiscent of our first time being together in the rain at the beach. He was warm against the light breeze that hinted at the upcoming storm. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “What are the movies?” he asked. I untangled the laptop from the cord. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “&lt;em&gt;Tell No One&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;em&gt;North by Northwest&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;em&gt;Three Days of Condor&lt;/em&gt;, and &lt;em&gt;Schindler’s List&lt;/em&gt;,” I said. Paul looked thoughtful. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “I don’t think I’ve seen any of those,” he said. I glared at him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “You’ve never seen &lt;em&gt;Schindler’s List&lt;/em&gt;? What planet do you live on?” I asked. He shrugged. I turned back around and shrugged against him, settling against his chest. The laptop glowed and I sighed. I’d been putting this off for way too long. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “So…?” Paul asked. “Do you know what the common theme is?” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “Yes,” I said. I could hear my boredom before I’d even gotten a chance to type anything. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~*~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cue the blue screen of death. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God works in mysterious ways. It sort of reminded me of that part in Monty Python Holy Grail when that huge horde of people appear out of no where and yell "Get on with it!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need a life. Maybe I'll get one this summer. Now that I've blogged I have nothing to do but work on my online class.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5936982968092131308-3150138557780911919?l=adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/feeds/3150138557780911919/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/05/cue-theme-to-bonanza.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/3150138557780911919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/3150138557780911919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/05/cue-theme-to-bonanza.html' title='Cue the theme to Bonanza'/><author><name>Glitch in the System</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01658663765093980227</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5936982968092131308.post-3647670755719605923</id><published>2009-05-28T11:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-28T14:04:34.353-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ariana loses her mind during finals, but not her passion for writing</title><content type='html'>Well, I'm in the middle of college finals right now and anyone who knows me knows that this is like my semesterly breakdown. I can cruise through the entire semester without really giving a damn, but when the end of the year comes I hide away to try and make myself study. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the thing is that it is extremely hard to&lt;em&gt; make&lt;/em&gt; me do anything. When I have a seven page paper due all I can do is stare at the screen and think "That's about the length of one chapter for me. This should be no big deal." But somehow it is. Writing chapters is easy. Writing essays is not. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm obsessed with writing. So somehow I came up with this brilliant idea to write about someone else doing my essay to get it done. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And somehow that turns into Cammy writing my Political Science essay with Jasper's help. It takes place further into Eclipse and I have to warn you that it doesn't quite make sense unless you're writing the essay and this at the same time, but this is the only way to make me write something that I don't give a damn about. It's strictly free writing, so forgive the lack of editing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here is an exclusive bit of the Puppet Master that probably won't ever appear anywhere again. Don't worry. Its never going to appear in the real story:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cammy, Jasper, and the Electoral College&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jasper arrived like a ghost as always. One moment I was alone watching The Fresh Prince of Bel Air, and then without even feeling a dip in the couch cushions, noticed a vampire sitting to my right. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He met my gaze the moment I gasped and smiled. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Someone needs to put a bell on you,” I said. Jasper’s grin widened. I don’t know what it is about vampires that take delight in appearing out of thin air. Maybe it was sort of reminiscent of his old hunting days. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I buried that thought as soon as it crossed me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well, someone has to make sure you’re doing your essay. It’s due tomorrow,” he reminded. I cringed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Thanks. I was just getting to it,” I said. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“So I see,” Jasper laughed watching the flickering television screen again. He waited for a response from me. I sighed heavily. “Seven pages on the Electoral College is not going to write itself.” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Unless Edward bribes Mr. Andrus.” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Don’t count on it. Now that Carlisle knows he’s going to be keeping an eye out for this sort of thing. Bella’s excusable because she’ll be in high school more times than she can count. You only get one shot.” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Thank God,” I muttered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then out of nowhere my laptop was in his hand. I opened my mouth to ask how long he’d had that, but he offered it back to me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Come on. A vampire tutor is the next best thing to bribery,” he said. I sighed. He turned and faced me. “What do you have so far?” I flushed a light pink, something I tried to avoid since I didn’t like reminding Jasper that I was a well balanced meal as much as I was a friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You don’t want to see it. It’s very hard to get me to write essays that I don’t want to write. I have my methods,” I said feeling embarrassed. I felt a wave of contentment to smother my insecurity. I gave him a look to show that I knew what he was doing. But I consented, seeing as how he probably was not going to leave without making sure I was going to improve my grade at this point.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“Okay. Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I said. The mouse glided across the screen to the desktop item and the Word document clicked to life. As usual he wasn’t going to get too close and lean over me to read. I handed him the laptop. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Electoral College and other Useless Crap&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Electoral College is a voting system that has been active in this country for God knows how long. There are people who think it makes voting easier to tally. Other people think that government officials need to stop being so freakin’ lazy and count every vote the way its supposed to. I, for one, am that freakin’ lazy. If I had to count all those ballots I’d be like, “Damn, there are a lot of people in America. I wish I were a high school student.” How many Americans actually know what the Electoral College is? &lt;br /&gt;The Electoral College is a system that we use for the presidential election. It was founded by_______ for the reason of _______. Can you tell I haven’t even thought of opening this book?&lt;br /&gt;What the hell is the Electoral College?&lt;br /&gt;Well it looks pretty damn complicated. I could probably write seven freakin’ pages on that alone, because personally I have no idea what it means. &lt;br /&gt;Is the Man trying to keep us down? I think Andrus said something about how Bush didn’t win the election, but Gore did. What the hell happened there? Dude, I could write a page about that. Only six more pages to go!&lt;br /&gt;But hey, there’s got to be a bright side to all this. I mean, otherwise what’s the purpose of the Electoral College? &lt;br /&gt;Okay, okay. Let’s say we SHOULD get rid of the Electoral College. Is that going to piss off everyone and make everything crazy? Does it help any party in particular? DO I SMELL A CONSPIRACY?&lt;br /&gt;This is like, National Treasure crap. Who the hell is trying to make it the Electoral College illegal? What would happen if it was gone? Would it just be the popular vote? Would that be a terrible idea leaving everything up to the people, because sometimes hardcore democracy sucks. Sometimes people are stupid. Then again, stupid people should get a say too. I mean what is stupid? Who draws the line at what is stupid and what’s not? &lt;br /&gt;In conclusion, the Electoral College can kiss my ass because its lamer than lame.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took a split second for Jasper’s brow to furrow in confusion. He looked up from the screen at me. Now I was a bright red.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“Have you ever been tested for Attention Deficit Disorder?” he asked.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“Yes,” I said. He waited. “Oh, you were kidding? Well, I have, and no, I don’t have the luxury having the exact DSM criteria to make the government tutor me for free.” Jasper’s blonde brows went up.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“What exactly did you accomplish by writing this?”&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I fought the urge to roll my eyes. I hated having to explain myself.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“Free writing is a good way to get momentum. If you get past all the obscenities, you’ll find that I made my outline. Topic paragraph, the history of the Electoral College, why it was made, what it is, how its developed over the years, the good its done for politics, the arguments for its removal, what would happen if it were removed, and the conclusion,” I said. The way Jasper did a double take at the screen made me smile with self pride. He seemed to agree.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“Clever. It must take the anxiety out of a term paper, and still productive. Excellent use of psychological defense mechanisms,” he said.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“Thanks,” I said, though I wasn’t quite sure what he was talking about.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“Now,” he said. “You have the general topic which is clearly the Electoral College, but, what is this paper about exactly? Is it purely informative?”&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“I have no idea,” I responded with a nod.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;He paused.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“Where’s your paper’s outline? What does your teacher expect you to write?” he asked.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“I have no idea,” I said again. He exhaled as he seemed to suddenly understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You lost it?”&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“Yes,” I said.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;He sighed and I could guess his thoughts.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Typical Cammy.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“Is it an argumentative paper?”&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“I don’t think so,” I said. “But Mr. Andrus said something about how we should talk about why we should keep the Electoral College system or if we should just stick to the popular vote.” Jasper blinked. Something unnecessary for vampires, so I knew that he was reacting to something I’d said.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“What?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Nothing, just… Well, this is bringing back memories,” he said.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“Really?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes,” he said. He smiled and exhaled. “Very old memories.”&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;My blood surged in familiar Twilight enhanced excitement. I felt a back story coming on! Not just any back story, &lt;em&gt;Jasper’s&lt;/em&gt; back story. This was what part of the Civil War was about, wasn’t it? I turned my body so I could cross my legs on the couch and face him. He watched me.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“Where’s this excitement coming from?” he asked, smiling hesitantly.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“Of every Cullen’s political view, &lt;em&gt;yours&lt;/em&gt; has to be the most interesting. You’re the confederate soldier!” I said. Jasper looked shocked. I felt a flicker of that surpise brush against my own emotions.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“How did you know that?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Can I see the bite marks on your arms?” I asked feeling my eyes glitter with dazzled fascination of a fan. He exhaled in understanding.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“I’m going to tell Bella my story?” he asked. I hesitated. Maybe I shouldn't have given that away. He sighed. “How strange.”&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“Why is it strange? She’s going to be a part of your family,” I asked. &lt;br /&gt;He paused.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“Nothing, its just… I’m used to distancing myself from Bella. It’s starting to feel real, seeing Bella starting to spend the night, and indulging Alice,” he said. His eyes trained down at the couch for a moment. He looked almost sad.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“What’s wrong with that?” I asked Jasper.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“Nothing,” he said shaking his head. He forced a smile. “Once this book is over you can meet Bella. You won’t have to sneak around, and you’ll have more time with the family.”&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I grinned. He leaned forward in the couch.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“Back to work,” he said nodding to the laptop. I picked it up and set it on my lap, ready to type. “Topic paragraph.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hook, line, and thesis statement,” I said. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Electoral College has been the United States traditional form of electing the president and vice president for decades.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stopped after the period. The cursor blinked.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Jasper waited expectantly for more of an answer. I stared back at him. His expression fell into a face of concern.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“And…?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What else should I type?” I asked. He grinned.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“You want me to help you write this sentence by sentence?”&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“Yes, please.”&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“No Cammy. It’s the topic paragraph. It’s going to be the easiest paragraph to write,” he said. He waved his hand at the screen. “You don’t need any sources. All you need is some catchy lines about the Electoral College. Write what you know.”&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;My stomach sank a little. I knew he felt the guilt I had.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“You have no idea what the Electoral College is,” he deducted.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“Wow. And here I thought you must be better off than Bella seeing as how you didn’t miss an entire midterm going to Italy,” came another voice. Jasper was unsurprised as Edward strolled from the backdoor into the living room. Even with Edward’s stoically proud demeanor I could sense he was antsy.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;This could be expected of course. Bella was in La Push.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt a spark of hope.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“Edward! Will you write a paper on the Electoral College for me?” I asked. Edward started to shrug.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“I don’t see why not,” Edward said. I grinned.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“Yes!”&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“If you call the werewolves and convince them to wrap up the bonfire early,” he added. My spirits fell just as quickly.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“Now you’re just toying with me,” I growled. Edward’s small smile tweaked his lips handsomely. I looked away quickly. That’s when I saw Jasper leaning over the laptop and silently tapping the keys. An internet page was up and the downloading bar was loading.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“Read this,” he said. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I thought you were going to make me do this by myself?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Giving you sources is helping. Writing your paper is cheating,” he said lightly. I was beginning to feel the same childish frustration I felt with the werewolves.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Though I supposed the vampires had more right patronizing someone one tenth their age, I was still annoyed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Okay, okay,” I said. After the twelfth time of rereading that page I found what I needed. “I think I get it,” I declared. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Good,” Jasper said. Edward crossed the floor and looked out the living room window. He looked like a dog waiting for his master to come home from work. I smothered that simile to make myself focus. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;em&gt; The Electoral College has been the United States traditional form of electing the president and vice president for decades. There is much controversy surrounding the idea that this is a sufficiently democratic way of choosing the system, while others disagree. This system has affected the outcome of some elections that have decided America’s history and the controversy is still as heavily debated as it was when the Federalists and Anti-Federalist were shaping their country.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Tah dah!” I said smiling at Jasper. I handed him the laptop to read. He nodded a little, biting his cheek. It was obvious he thought it could be better. “You can tell its bull shit, can’t you?”&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“If its any consolation, its pretty good as far as bull shit goes,” he said. I could not contain my snickering. How strange to see a Cullen saying worse curse words than “hell” or “damn.” Jasper ignored my giggling.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“There’s your topic paragraph. Let's move on,” he said. I sighed in exasperation. There was so much to do. I fell back into the couch and groaned loudly. Edward turned away from the window slightly to look at me. “Come on, Cammy,” he insisted. &lt;br /&gt;I felt my shoulders sag in defeat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Why was the Electoral College made?” Jasper asked. I suppressed another groan.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“Because…” I thought for a moment. “I don’t know. It doesn’t really make sense really. Why would the founding fathers make the Electoral College when they were reforming the colonies to be one democratic country?” Jasper looked at me expectedly.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“Sounds like a good topic sentence,” he said. I shrugged.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Hm…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Electoral College is a system that is not direct democracy which has been both its attraction and repelling attribute. &lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Why is it an attraction?” Jasper asked. I sighed. Jasper handed me the text book, smiling at my annoyance. “Procrastination won’t make it disappear.”&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Bribery will,” I said hinting in Edward’s direction. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You know my terms,” Edward hinted right back at me. Maybe he wasn’t joking about calling the werewolves. It wasn’t like Bella would even see someone get the call.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;She fell asleep in the middle of the legends. I sighed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even homework wouldn’t convince me to change unnecessarily interfere with Twilight. How sad was that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Electoral College is a system that is not direct democracy which has been both its attraction and repelling attribute. The framers of the constitution believed that the election of president should be represented by population rather than state by state because of the difference in each state size. The more people in the state, the more electoral votes the state gets. However, the popular vote does not technically decide how the state is going to vote, which is where some people argue the democracy is lost. The elected electors vote for the president. It is true that most of the time electors vote the way of the popular opinion of their state in order to reflect the will of the people officially.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oops,” I said. Jasper leaned over my shoulder.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“You veered off from your outline and jumped right into, to quote you, what the hell an electoral college is rather than it’s history,” he said. I shrugged a little.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“Maybe I should switch the paragraphs around,” I said. Jasper made a face as he thought on that.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“Perhaps. Or maybe its time to get into the old federalism song and dance,” he said. He had a sarcastic note to his voice. Edward looked over his shoulder grinning slightly. I looked from Edward to Jasper in confusion. It seemed that Jasper’s thoughts were entertaining.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I knew.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“Oh my gosh! Confederacy!” I said. Jasper looked annoyed. I smiled. “You don’t like the electoral college, do you? You have a civil war Southern political point of view and therefore think that the government should be involved as little as possible,” I said. Jasper rolled his eyes a little. I laughed. “Do you have cowboy boots and a snake skin belt with a fist-sized buckle too?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Do you dye your hair blonde and play volleyball on the beach in a bikini?” Jasper retorted.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I frowned at the mention of my own California stereotype.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“Okay. No more stereotypes, but still…”&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“Keep writing. You’re getting distracted,” Jasper interrupted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;When American government was still being sculpted there was much debate as to how the president and vice president would be chosen. “The final decision of the delegates, to have electors chosen by the various state legislatures elect the president, was the result of a compromise worked out by a committee comprised of one delegate from each of the states and presented to the Convention on September 4, 1787.” This method has been unchanged since its creation and has served its country well, for the most part. However, there are times when the system has failed the people. &lt;br /&gt;“The first contested election was that of 1800 when both Thomas Jefferson and his running mate, Aaron Burr, received 73 electoral votes, throwing the election into the House of Representatives.” While this caused dispute among the people in making a decision, it led to the creation of the twelfth amendment, which further defined the constitution.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked up at Jasper.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“What? You were doing so well,” he said.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“What happened in the 1800 election?”&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“Don’t ask me. I wasn’t alive yet,” Jasper said cocking a brow. Edward sighed from where he stood, facing out the window. “Please Edward. Just sit down and think about something else. You know very well that Bella will be fine if Cammy says she is.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yup,” I confirmed without looking up. My eyes were beginning to strain under the brightness of the screen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Edward ignored Jasper so Jasper busied himself with helping me again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Look it up, Cammy,” Jasper urged, his voice becoming authoritative. I minimized the page, and brought up another search page. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Edward shifted away from the window, still anxiously looking westward where the reservation was a few miles away. I watched him, happy for the distraction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What if you’re missing something? What if something-” Edward worried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Nothing’s going to happen to her. Bella would know if something happened to Bella. Therefore I would know too. Besides Jacob’s not a… terrible guy. He’s just not you,” I said. My reluctance in admitting that made everyone in the room look up. I looked back at the two vampires. “What? I like vampires better. I’m not coming onto you.”&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“I’d think that you would be more of a werewolf fan,” Jasper said casually. I shrugged.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“Life’s funny,” was all I had to say to that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Jefferson and Burr…?” Jasper reminded tapping the screen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Can both bite me," I finished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Cammy.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Alright, alright.” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I think you should go more into the methodology of the Electoral College. The Electors aren’t the only part of it,” Jasper said.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“As Jefferson and Burr proved.”&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“Right. Twelfth amendment.”&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“One thing at a time.” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And that's when I put myself to work...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From that point on I have the ability to do my essay on my own. Though I'd probably wasted an hour free writing all the extra bits, I wouldn't be able to write it at all without making myself interested in the Electoral College. Now I've turned research for an essay into turning research for a story, and forced Cammy to write my outline (no matter how many tangents it may have.) And it ends there when I've had enough motivation to just write by myself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is that weird?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5936982968092131308-3647670755719605923?l=adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/feeds/3647670755719605923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/05/ariana-loses-her-mind-but-not-her.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/3647670755719605923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/3647670755719605923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/05/ariana-loses-her-mind-but-not-her.html' title='Ariana loses her mind during finals, but not her passion for writing'/><author><name>Glitch in the System</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01658663765093980227</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5936982968092131308.post-7182748532673171007</id><published>2009-05-26T00:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T01:21:53.526-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Frontal lobes are for pansies</title><content type='html'>Stardate: Erm...Whenever&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so hyper I can't even stand it. It's not even that I just got to visit my sister and celebrate our birthdays together. Its that finals are here and that's when my creative brain overtakes my rational brain that should be worried about my future and well being and all that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I can't freakin sleep. After typing my facebook apology for having absolutely inspiration I have an epiphany. Because I know they've been lagging and part of it is because every chapter is ridiculous. I mean, when you get a thousand hits in one day from people all over the world it gets a bit nerve wracking. I could screw up and I mean REALLY screw up and people would notice. Poor Stephenie Meyer. She has a billion more fans than me. But because of this stress I end up taking the safe route, making sure that Cammy isn't cooler than anyone else and making Paul calm the hell down. I guess I'm afraid to let either of them steal the show because this is a FANfiction. They have taken over for me and they are main characters while I'm still trying very hard to respect Stephenie Meyer's work. I feel this guilt that Paul and Cammy shouldn't be the stars of the show. And thus the characters got a bit distorted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the truth is that Paul and Cammy still argue ALL the time, but I don't write that because of being afraid of upsetting people. I just feel terrible. But these arguments might just make their relationship what it is. Its essential! I mean, its like the hotel scene when out of nowhere its like they're almost having sex. That's one of the memorable scenes I get comments on and I almost took that out because I had no idea where that came from. For a while it felt like a ridiculous sexy scene even if I did write it on the spot. But it was that ridiculous scene that made reviewers go "WHOA!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This story is so complicated and hard to write for sometimes. So I think I'll just sit back and let my lack of limitations take over again. I need to be the spontaneous me who thought that this story was a stupid idea and that I would just write it to get it out of my head and play with a fictional world that I adore. I'm starting to think that the stupid ideas are the actual good ones. Its only when you take chances and make some noise that you really leave your mark and make people interested. That is, of course, what being an author is all about. I think...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5936982968092131308-7182748532673171007?l=adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/feeds/7182748532673171007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/05/frontal-lobes-are-for-pansies.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/7182748532673171007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/7182748532673171007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/05/frontal-lobes-are-for-pansies.html' title='Frontal lobes are for pansies'/><author><name>Glitch in the System</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01658663765093980227</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5936982968092131308.post-7509448430633189611</id><published>2009-05-25T14:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T00:55:50.001-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Blog?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;How successful can a blog about a girl trying to achieve almost impossible dream of writing professionally? Well, let's find out. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;First of all, I've been writing since I was thirteen. I have picked up a book or two about fiction writing in my lifetime. They're all good and bad in their own ways, but I'm starting that no one can tell you how to write more and more. One person will read your writing and go "Oh. That's uh... Well okay." Case and point, my father who started reading "The Puppet Master" and though he'd never say anything I knew he didn't like it. On the other hand it got LOTS of good attention. People ask me how I do outlines and I sheepishly have to admit that outlines ruin my writing and make it boring. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But I've been reading Janet Evanovich's How I Write and I actually love it. Of course there are some things that I don't agree with but she gave me some ideas. So now I'm going try and write a story about my fair city:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The Santa Clarita Valley!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p9MYIFAG-VA/ShsM9l-CpeI/AAAAAAAAAAM/soufeY2VZS0/s1600-h/santa+clarita+valley.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339876035481740770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 145px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 108px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p9MYIFAG-VA/ShsM9l-CpeI/AAAAAAAAAAM/soufeY2VZS0/s320/santa+clarita+valley.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The very city I tried to escape from three years ago. Its a miserable hell and I hope the next brush fire wipes it out, but hey, Bella doesn't like Forks. Why can't my characters not like Santa Clarita?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I went scouting for locations. Its a lot easier to imagine things when you're actually at the place of them happening. I found the place of interest in fact. It's called the Valencia Corporate Center. I went there yesterday and found it was full of medical research buildings. Interesting because it sort of reminded me of "The School" from James Pattersons's &lt;em&gt;Maximum Ride&lt;/em&gt; series. I didn't think places like that actually existed. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So after being scared off by a security car I drove away, inspired and upset that I should probably stop goofing off and work on my finals paper. Stupid school gets in the way of everything.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p9MYIFAG-VA/ShsNbPAlNtI/AAAAAAAAAAU/MBj6lkfgB-c/s1600-h/Shining+Armor+Inc..jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339876544714454738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 125px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 93px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p9MYIFAG-VA/ShsNbPAlNtI/AAAAAAAAAAU/MBj6lkfgB-c/s320/Shining+Armor+Inc..jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5936982968092131308-7509448430633189611?l=adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/feeds/7509448430633189611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-blog.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/7509448430633189611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5936982968092131308/posts/default/7509448430633189611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofawannabeauthor.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-blog.html' title='My Blog?'/><author><name>Glitch in the System</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01658663765093980227</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p9MYIFAG-VA/ShsM9l-CpeI/AAAAAAAAAAM/soufeY2VZS0/s72-c/santa+clarita+valley.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
