Tweeting to the MAX

I realised something yesterday: I can put sleep on hold in order to allow things to 'go down'.

I'm particularly referring to yesterday's (last night's, even) bout of Twitter warfare. Recently, I gave in to peer pressure and started up a Twitter account, justified as it was by the idea that perhaps, just perhaps, I could build up some sort of following through which to diffuse news of my writing life. Insofar, I have a large number of spambot users, a great number of people I actually know, and some writers who can hold their own in conversation. Naturally, I pwn them all, but no matter.

It was as I launched myself into yet another fray that I seemed to reach the optimum level of Tweeting wittiness. (And those are the words of someone else, not me. It isn't just me being egotistical again.) This was, mind you, at 0100 local time - so just into today. I managed to sleep eight hours last night. Good going, for me. Unfortunately, just as I reached the peak of excellence, I was struck down by Twitter itself.

Apparently, there's a limit on how many Tweets any one user can post within a 24-hour period, because at 0145, it told me: 'You have surpassed the daily Tweet allowance. Ha ha ha.'

This was in itself hardly a setback - if I so wished, I could have set up a new account and gone on with it using that instead, but the debate had ended in my victory already - but it irked me that Twitter had stopped my ranting mid-rant. Just so that I could have a legitimate reason to complain, I branded this a disruption of free speech. This is, obviously, a severe and (supposedly) outrageous occurrence. To be forced to wait a further eight hours before Retweeting something... Ugh. It's truly awful. Infernal system.

What really got me was: "There's an upper limit!?" The idea that they could impose a limit on how much I could Tweet seemed a little ridiculous. Ridiculous, that is, until I realised just how much I had actually Tweeted within the space of three hours.

Suffice to say, my sixty-odd followers got a surprise when they next checked on their feeds.

I can safely say that I have indeed Tweeted to the max, and for this I bestow upon myself the antsy title of 'Resident Twitter User'. This is where I would self-advertise, but The Editor's just removed all of it. (Note from the Ed: You're welcome, Pixels. You knew that, when you returned, I would too.)

Goodnight, everyone. See? I told you that this blog wasn't dead yet.

Regards,
   Pisces

Too Long!

Too long, we have suffered in silence. Too long, we have done nothing against those who oppress us. But now, we rise up against them - injustice shall crumble 'neath the might of our swords, tyranny shall smash under the force of our hammers. And with these same tools, these tools that brought down an empire of evil, we shall build a world of peace and joy.

And that is how I return to AWDKOF.

Yes, I'm back, and probably not just for a brief stint. Gads, I forgot how much fun this whole blogging thing is. Here, pass me the joystick. I want to joyride this blog of mine around the universe.

Surprisingly, even without ANY of our authors' presence, the blog has been doing remarkably well. Not as well as when we had everyone and everything operational, but at about 60% normal capacity. This in itself is astonishing. People obviously get pulled in every day by the various keywords I place in pretty much every post I make - keywords I place in the hope that we do indeed pull in some people searching Google for a keyword or phrase. I've checked the stats. My favourite - and second from the top in the list of 'Most Searched Terms' - was 'screech owl'.

On that note, it has just turned 01:30 (going by the 24 hour clock) in Scotland, and that means that my bed is calling me back to its warm embrace. Also, Twitter decided to stop me Tweeting after I passed the 'daily limit for sending Tweets'. What the hell is that all about? A post for another time, perhaps.

Peace out, peeps, and, if I don't return - even though it's obvious that I will - have a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

Doll House Space Filler!

Seeing as no one has posted anything up and there is a very slim chance of me being well enough to go to school tomorrow (seeing as I fainted on my way into bed), I think it's time I post up a little something to fill the space. So I will. And it is a story. A particularly frightening story according to my English teacher, but trust me when I say I can do far scarier. Anyway, SPACE FILLER POWERS ACTIVATE!

DOLLHOUSE

  You know what I find really creepy? Dolls. There’s just something about them that always sets me on edge. Maybe it’s the fact that they look so realistic you are certain that they are alive even though they’re not made living flesh. Maybe it’s the emptiness in their eyes. They are painted and coloured in a manner that have a certain glow to it that emphasises realism, but not. It’s not just the eyes that creeps me out though. It’s the fact that no matter where you go, the eyes are always directed at you.

  There are some freaky stories about dolls as well. You know, apparently they’re supposed to be vessels for lost souls. Does that mean that in every single doll we buy, there could be the ghost of a serial killer or a dead terrorist?

  Dolls were the reason I hated going to my Aunties house. She had this fixation with dolls shown by the fact that on every single shelf she had in the house, even in the kitchen, there were dolls lined up next to each other. And no matter where you went, they would always be watching you. It was like something out of a horror story, and I always had that feeling of being watched whenever we went to visit.

  My Auntie herself was a lovely woman with a certain level of enthusiasm and cheerfulness that always made you feel right at home. Even if that home was full of evil possessed dolls. How she could bare living in that house, I never understood and probably never will.

  She rarely left her home, though. Or if she did, she never let us know. I know that she worked from home. I also know that she would order her groceries from the internet so she wouldn’t have to go to the shops to buy anything. It was as though she was afraid something horrible would happen if she was to leave her house.

  I remember this one time she bought a really strange doll that was almost my height with dark hair and eyes so pale you would swear they were white. I think it was this doll that started up my hatred for dolls.

  You see, my Auntie was never able to have children even when she was married. I think she bought the dolls to make up for this, but this doll was completely different by her standards. She loved it with a passion. She even named it Elliot.

  When I was little, she used to take Elliot over to the house and have me talk to him as though he was a living, breathing person. At the time, I was unaware that Elliot was not a human being, and I would talk and play with him for hours. I even heard him speak back to me, although now that I look back on it that was probably my imagination.

  When I was old enough to realise that I was talking to an inanimate object, my Auntie stopped bringing Elliot over, and soon she stopped coming over herself.

  Today was my weekly visit. I always had to come over because no one was certain whether she was alive since she never came out, and she didn’t have a phone either. I had stuffed my bag with my phone, some spare clothes, my toothbrush, and whatever else I thought I would need to maintain whatever sanity I had in me as I hiked up the hill to my Auntie’s eerie little cottage.

  I knocked on the door and entered before she answered the door. Shutting the door behind me, I was faced by the usual sensation of being watched by a number of hollow, blue eyes from every corner of the room. I dumped my bag on the sofa and walked across the room to call out to my Auntie who was undoubtedly in her tiny office.

  “Auntie Linda, it’s Lucy!” I called down the dark hallway. She always kept the light off for some reason… Auntie Linda scuttled out of her office, her red hair in disarray and her glasses squint on her face. She was always welcome for company, even if she didn’t enjoy the idea of leaving the house.

“It’s been a while, Lucy! How have you been?”

“It’s only been a week, Auntie Linda. Mum’s headed off for a little vacation away from home.”

“Oh, do tell me all about it. I’ll just go and get us some tea.” I nodded in agreement as she left the room. I just stood there for a moment, watching her leave. The entire time I was speaking to her, I felt the intenseness of the stares getting stronger, and now that I was alone I was left with no distractions to direct my attention away from the dolls that surrounded me so.  I resisted the urge to gulp as I pushed my bag aside and sat down on the sofa. I would just have to endure it, after all it’s not like it’s any better in the other rooms.

  “So, tell me, how’s your brother doing?” Auntie Linda asked me calmly as she lifted her tea. I watched her quietly, cautious of the small blonde doll behind her.

“He’s been a little unwell since he came over last week, so we’re giving him a few days to recover from whatever he’s got.”

“Hmm, it is winter, so he’s probably gotten sickness from being out in the snow for too long.” It sounded like something he would do, but he had been babbling about something strange before he got sick… something here had clearly scared him, although no one knew what it was.

“Yeah, I suppose so. He does tend to stay out with his friends too long…” My Auntie sighed and mumbled something about kids today. I also heard her say something about her child not doing such things… what child?

  I had a nightmare that night. It wasn’t the usual kind either. I was in the living room in my pyjamas  and it was deathly quiet. Everything had a red tinge to it, as though I was wearing red-tinted glasses. The dolls had come down from their shelves and had surrounded me. Their usual placid expressions had been twisted into that of malicious glee, as though relishing the fear I was clearly suffering from.

  But alike my other dreams, they did not move. They just stood there. If it had been real life, I would have ran up the stairs or out of the house. But I had no control of my limbs. I turned my head to the hallway door and began walking down the hallway to my Auntie’s office.

  I stopped directly in front of the door and stared at the closed door. Except I didn’t. In my dream, the door was see-through, so I could see directly into the room where my Auntie was sitting. And what I saw sent shivers down my spine.

  You know how I said my Auntie always had this doll that she treated like she would her own son? That exact same doll sat on her lap with its head rested on her chest as she spoke quite cheerfully to it. But that wasn’t what scared me the most. What scared me the most was the fact that the doll spoke back. I could hear its whispery voice as it mumbled replies to whatever my Auntie had to say to it. And all I could do was stand there and watch it.

  “Lucy came over today. You know Lucy; you used to play with her all the time when you were little.” They were talking about me? I heard a childish giggle emerge from its mouth. From what I could see, it was parted ever so slightly in a manner that would appear seductive had it been on a human being, but on this… thing I couldn’t help but feel frightened.

“I remember Lucy! She’s the one with the funny eyes!” It almost sang out in its ghostly voice. “I miss her… can we go talk to her?” I could do nothing to stop her from saying yes as she lifted herself off the bed, carrying the doll with her.

“I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you!” She unlocked the door and entered the hallway, walking right past me and towards my room.

  It was then that I woke up. I could tell because it was now pitch dark and I was lying in my bed. I could wriggle my fingers, although the rest of my body was so exhausted I could hardly stand to move it.

  As my ears adjusted to the supposed silence, I could hear the stairs creaking as someone passed up them. That someone was my Auntie, and I knew it. My breathing hitched as I realised what I would soon be faced with.

  I knew that getting up and moving would be the worst thing to do. I pulled the covers over my head, like I would if I was five, and squeezed my eyes shut. Maybe I thought that if I curled up tight enough, I would disappear completely.

  I heard the door open as my Auntie entered the room. I didn’t move, afraid of doing so. Her feet gently scuffed the floorboards, as though she was afraid she’d wake me up. She sat down next to the bed. I could feel the icy coldness of the room as the covers were removed from my grip. I could hear her lifting the doll up onto the bed and placing in the gap between me and the edge of the bed. I could hardly breathe knowing that thing was right in front of me. The arm was placed over my shoulder and the covers put back in place.

“Have sweet dreams, guys. Mummy will be downstairs if you need anything.”

  I didn’t sleep after that. How could I? The doll said nothing, moved nothing, and did nothing. Nor did I want it to. It was while I was trying to avoid accepting the fact that this doll was sleeping right in front of me that I summarised that the voice I heard from the doll came from my Auntie. They never spoke over each other, and I heard my Auntie using that voice during a small pantomime she was in when she used to go out.

  It wasn’t until early morning when my Auntie came in again and removed the doll from my presence.

“We don’t want to startle Lucy, she’s always one to get surprised easily.” She said to the doll, leaving the room and closing the door behind her. I waited until I could no longer hear the footsteps before I let out a sigh of relief.

  I climbed out of the bed and ran to the drawer. I grabbed everything in my hands and shoved them into my bag in a careless heap. I didn’t have time to think of making it neat and tidy. All I wanted was to get out of here.

  I combed back my hair and tried to conceal the bags under my eyes with make-up. Holding back the fear I was suffering from, I walked down the stairs ready to leave. My Auntie was sitting in the living room, all signs of her previous madness gone.

  I held up my mobile, briefly showing all of my fear.

“M-mum says something bad has happened to Lucas.” I stuttered out the lie, resisting the urge to scream in terror as I spoke. A concerned expression appeared on my Aunties face. “I really need to get home to see how everything is going.”

“It’s okay, dear, I understand. Go right ahead, I’ll see you next week.”

  As I walked down the pathway, I noticed how grey everything seemed. How empty this household was. Clouds were rolling in, certain to result in snow or rain. I blew air into my hands as I tried to warm them in vain. I glanced back at the house for a moment, and saw my Auntie waving me goodbye. I lifted my hand to wave back, but I cut myself short.

  Behind my Auntie I could see the doll standing there. And it was waving. It was waving at me. And it was smiling. It was smiling… at me. 

The WriMo Journals: Day 1

November 1^st, 2012 - Day 1
November is come. The calendar is changed. The computer is booted. The coffee is brewing.

NaNoWriMo has begun.

So, it's the first day of NaNo, which means one of two things: a) I've begun my novel and am haring down the road to an all-but inevitable victory, or b) I've realised how truly terrible my idea is and have collapsed in front of the first hurdle. I'll give you a clue as to which I am experiencing right now. It's not a).
Yeah. My idea collapsed as soon as I started writing. This is rather a worry, seeing as my novel was pretty much planned and I spent three hours yesterday consorting with Wikipedia over how to generate names for Chinese characters. I think what went wrong was this: I woke up this morning and realised it was NaNoWriMo.

NaNo jitters are as simple and common an ailment as hiccups and the common cold, but they are the Black Death of the novel-writing universe. There is a simple truth at the centre of the universe (well, maybe that was an exaggeration, but you get me): if you doubt your own work, others are likely to doubt it too. I doubted my work. Therefore, I doubted myself. And when you doubt your work, you realise that it is difficult to motivate yourself to continue. So I did the only thing possible at that moment in time. I printed off the work I'd done - all 400 words of it (that bad, yes) - and set it on fire.

The ensuing debacle is not something I wish to share. This is, after all, a journal about NaNoWriMo, not about how I happened to set off the smoke alarm and burn a hole in the carpet when I spilled some obscure chemicals on the burning sheets. So I shall skip to my point: if one doubts their work, there are two solutions. First, you can do a rewrite, or even just reconsider your idea and run with it. The alternative? Destroy the evidence and get in trouble with the parents for almost committing unintentional arson.

Rest assured, I now have an excellent idea running - I'm continuing my novel 'Through Those Dark Doorways' and adding another 50K to that - and it's going swimmingly. I broached the first K-mark (i.e. I passed the 1,000 word milestone) and have the next 10,000 words planned in my head. My message to you: if it seems to be going badly, it's probably just the kind of day you're having. You just need to stick with it, and you'll make it. Trust me: this will all be worth it. You'll be glad you took part by the time December arrives.

Keep calm and novel on,

NaNoWriMo fanatic Professor Pisces, signing out.

Eyebrows, Nooses and Other Living Organisms

Top of the evening to you, fellow beans and ladies. It is I, the Emissary, the Lord. You may call me Bill. It has come to my attention that the Professor has been tardy, or rather, Obese. This presents a problem, for us bloggers need an idol, a figurehead to help us go on. Without our motivation, we may also become Obese. It happened to America, it can happen to us. The Professor will go down in the Blog’s pecking order until he is as low and as overweight as possible. That gives others the opportunity to overthrow him. But we shant. Hahahaha, I’m evil.

Moving swiftly on,  Resident Evil 6 is in stores now. So go ahead and grab yourself a copy. You’ll need it. We must have training for when the zombie apocalypse is at our doorstep. Besides that, it’s another installment in the series which isn't necessarily a good thing, for it went down hill faster than the Professor on a slope (he’s obese, remember?) Jokes aside, I’m sure it’ll have hours of zombie destroying fun.

So anyway, we are counting down the day’s until December. We all know why. For Armageddon of course. Personally, I don’t believe in such Mayan nonsense. But I’m always prepared. My advice: Stock up on Irn-Bru, pronto. If we’re going to die, we’re going to die with a smile on our face and Bru in our stomach.

In other news, it’s almost the October holiday’s! Personally, I’m not looking forward to it. I will be spending most of the time studying. You think exams end after school? You’re horridly wrong. I’m over 100 and I’m forced to study. I’m sure it’ll be fine though. Us intellectual types have learned to endure over time, we shall keep it that way.

I wish everyone a very joy filled holiday.

Au Revoir,

Bill.

Oh wait, this title is irrelevant.  

Filling the Space Again.

Since everyone here are currently being lazy sods (including the editor *gasp*) I've decided to post up a little comment. Today, I am going to see a movie that I can't remember the name of with a group of my friends in unknown numbers to see it at an unknown time at an unknown place. What could possibly go wrong?

Everything. What if I meet a homicidal maniac in an ice cream truck looking like bloody Homer Simpson!? I'm sorry, I just naturally presume that a homicidal maniac owns an ice cream truck. Not sure why. Maybe it's the creepy music you hear from the truck; it sounds like a freaking mating call. Yes, the mating call of the ice cream man.

I'm sorry, that was rather cold-hearted of me. Oh what, no it wasn't! Not much to say here today, considering I've done bugger all for my entire week. I AM going to Tunisia though, maybe find some dead people (hey, it's not just Egypt that makes mummies).

I've also noticed how Atem from Yu-Gi-Oh is like the parallel universe version of Tutankhamen. Allow me to elaborate:

• His father decided to completely remove all the the previous gods and replace them all with one god
• When he came to rule at the fresh young age of 9 (it's implied with Atem) he returned all of the normal gods
• He died under mysterious circumstances at the age of 19 (definitely in Atem's case)

And here I was thinking that Atem's story was completely original. Urgh. I became a fountain because you disappointed me. Either way, at least the animation and music is good.

SIGNING OFF!

Rinrei

Obesity.

Yes, Obesity. More commonly known on this blog as utter laziness and, I'm afraid, that is my excuse. However, do not worry, I've had the laziness liposuction-ed out of me, mentally. Which means that, unfortunately, I am back. Kekeke (<- New signature, evil laugh). So, as a gift to you, I come with a story to share. It is titled 'Mogalman and the Brigands'.

Mogalman and the Brigands

Hi there. So the Brigands died because the Mogalman swallowed them with PURE OBESITY.


Did you enjoy that story? Good. There's plenty more where that came from, that is unless obesity differs. But seriously, I'll try not to go on another untold hiatus again. I'm just glad the good Professor allowed me to keep my position.

Now my fellow blogalikes, I have news for you. I'm sort of a Captain now. Not a Captain in the army, nor am I a noble, posh trading company Captain. I am a Pirate, a man o' the sea's. However, most of you stereotypical Pirates as horribly unhygienic, pillaging ruffians. Might I mention that every single one of you are wrong, well, we pillage, sometimes. But that's beside the point, we have good intentions.

Now it's time for me to begone. I shall return, though. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the next day. But if there's one thing a Pirate is, he is honest. I shall be back, Professor. Kekeke.

Billiam Harkin Hanselton

BARRELS!

Considering Pisces has written a post on what he is doing (i.e. excuses) I feel I have just as much right to do so as him. So, naturally, I'm going to be a lazy bugger and write a list (i.e. to do list so that I can't slack off and go on the internet for bugger all).

• Finish 'Future Talk' (three more pages)
• Finish 'Story of the Century' (two more pages)
• Clean chapter six of 'Abide in the Wind' (because the world demands it)
• Search e-bay for cheap wigs and a boat oar (unless Dragon really does have a boat oar and wasn't just trying to cheer me up)
• GET SOME DAYUM ACTORS
• Make costumes. (Yes, make. Life is becoming that difficult.)
• Interrogate Pisces about the completed script of episode one of YYH Live Action (do this next week after he's finished his essay)
• Plan chapter two of 'Future Talk' and 'Story of the Century' for next month
• Start story for Writer's Group (first chapter done)
• Update 'Alice Human Sacrifice: The Tale Brought to Life'
• Update 'The Death Defying Marion Parker'
• Update 'How NOT To Write A Kuroshitsuji Story'
• Update 'Demon' ASAP
• Edit out chapter three of 'The Black Firefly' for Bill then send it to her
• Begin looking for locations for scenes for YYH Live Action
• Start listing props
• Design digital backgrounds
• Complete personal experience (for Thursday)
• Complete Psychology Homework
• Begin searching for clip-on microphones and extra cameras
• Once getting the script, announce the official one on the group
• Then update images on group to show what we have and what we need
• Add more money to the budget out of lunch money (in future add birthday and Christmas money)

And that all has to be done within the next week and a half. No pressure then. So, with that thought in mind, I have a perfectly good excuse for not being online i.e. I have a lot on my plate, stop bugging me. 

Now everyone else...hmm...I'm not sure about Evil who hasn't been online at all for donkey know how long and Matt is just lazy. Bill has gone ahead and blown up and no one knows where the Editor is. So it's just Pisces and I. Sorta. We're both completely overloaded with work, so that's making things awkward for us.

BARRELS!

Rinrei

What am I up to?

I was rather hoping that someone else would have posted by now, but I am sorely disappointed by my fellow authors. I can see where this is going... I have to yell at Evil. She has nothing of significance to be doing; she should be posting too. EVIL! Rest not upon your laurels!

What the heck am I doing in my spare time? Pretty much nothing, actually. I'm writing a short story, playing chess online, answering emails and finishing off essays and whatnot. Oh, and making music with the guitar. The Professor rocks... Literally. Writing solos is pretty good fun; aye it is.

I get the feeling that this is probably a very boring post. That is because it is. I shall have to do something to spice it up a little. Oh, look... what's that? Is that a... Mine Tutle?

There you go. Enjoy the awesomeness of the Mine Turtle.

September 2012 Update

Literally nothing has happened last month. Trust me when I say it: Everyone has been being ridiculously lazy. Even me. Yeah, as much as it is hard to believe, I have not been blogging half as much as is necessary over the last month. Hopefully, this shall change. But I had an excuse.

Camp NaNoWriMo, that most wonderful of wordy challenges, that lexical frenzy of literary abandon. I was busy writing another 50,000 word novel last month, and as such had little time to spare for the blog. This is in many ways unfortunate. It means that I can't shout at everyone else for being so much less than productive, simply because it would be hypocritical to do so. But this is a new month. I can shout now. It's a new month.

So, what about September? Well, this September will mark the Kettle's first birthday (!). As such, we'll be doing some stuff for that. I have ideas. Not that I've shared them yet. It's coming to me slowly.

What else is there? Well, I may just start writing some reviews and snarky posts about the new series of Doctor Who that started the other day, and undoubtedly someone shall moan about the dawn of the new school year. Boo hoo, I say, roll on the exams.

It should be clear to you that we are well and truly winging it this month, with no particular plan or schedule in place. But let's face it: we've been winging it for eleven months so far, and we now have a ridiculous number of views. It's worked so far. Why not continue with that ideal?

Regards,
   The Kettle

Lump of Clay

Today I decided to be slightly creative and explored the unexplored pits of my house, hoping to find a secret door or potentially a closet that would lead to Narnia. Highly possible considering the noises I hear in my brother's wardrobe when I decide to enter the abyss known as his room.

Anyway, while I was off on my exploration with an Indiana Jones hat, I came across many new entities I had not seen before. A perfect example of this is the massive spider in the ventilation that I have discovered is actually deadly. I have named him Mario due to his overall fatness.

When I decided to go outside I came across a small brown mouse living under our shed who I named Charles in memory of a previous mouse I found while hiking up the hill behind our house who was tragically killed by a cat. 

It was after returning from the shed and naming our Buddha statue Bob that I decided that I would explore the cupboard because, you know, that's what you do when you're bored out of your wits. So, I opened the cupboards and found something that left me in so much shock that I fell to the ground and died. Luckily, I came back to life. 

In the pits of the lower cupboard in my barely used kitchen, I came across three kilograms of the most sacred material known to man: Clay. Coming across such a thing was so amazing that I instantly took the massive, unused bricks of clay and returned to my room, dreaming up crazy designs and acting like a typical, obnoxious five-year-old, mumbling madly to herself about what monstrous things she could create.  

However, after half an hour of having this brick of clay in front of me, I am yet to do anything with it, and for some reason I feel as though I won't be doing anything with it any time soon. I remember, just before going on the laptop, that I saw this lump of clay and asked myself: What was I about to do with that? Before suddenly bursting out with: Holy Ra! It's a lump of clay! And repeating the whole incident again. 

I think I just might be turning into a Dalek like Amy was with her memory vanishing. Yeah, that's right, I watched Doctor Who for the first time in my life yesterday. Come at me.

SIGNING OFF!
   Rinrei

Curtain Call Coming Close...

NaNo's in its final stages: I have three full days left in which to write 9,000 words. That means that I'll have to write over 3,000 words a day on average to level with NaNo.

This is somewhat easier than you might think - especially when you're following a particular plot, theme or story of some sort. the thing is, once you get into it, it's pretty easy to write, write, write until a stairway to heaven appears or somebody saves your work and then tells you that "You have to get on with some other work now, Pisces, or you'll die a slow death of Word Poisoning." To which I say: Pah, I'll die sometime.

It became apparent to me several days ago that there's a real difference between saying that you'll write 2,500 words and actually doing it. When you think 'two thousand five hundred words', you (as a writer) think: OK, that's a pretty big number, but I can do it. But then you realise, when you put pen to paper, that it's a statistic. And statistics never truly embody reality.

So, I have 9,000 words to write in three days. Lovely. It's a statistic though, and that means that the reality is probably much different to whatever you're imagining right now. Unless, of course, you are a writer. In which case you should know what I'm banging on about by now. Please tell me if you understood that. Jane, perhaps? Are you enlightened? Bill? Matt? Evil, even (despite the fact that you only write when required)?

Maybe I'm going insane, but it's in the job description.

I have near enough 10,000 words to write. I must FLY...
   Pisces out.
      Flap, flap, flap...

Where Can I Buy an Agent?

With exactly 34,000 words of my novel now under my belt, I'm starting to think about the possibility of getting an agent through whom to get help with publishing. This being the fisrt full-length novel that I think might be finished, I'm quite keen to get expert opinions on it and such. But the question of an agent remains. Where can I find one?

Agents, when applied to the business of writing and publishing, are generally used to organise meetings with publishers, send off manuscripts to publishers and promote the author. This can, naturally, all be done by the author if they so wish, but most writers would rather be left to get on with the writing side of things. Personally. I think I might be able to handle all this stuff, but I'm still only a teenager. I doubt publication companies would take me seriously.

The problem is that you can't simply walk into town and grab an agent. You have to make them want to work for you. This is slightly annoying, as it means more work for me. It may just be simpler to grab an agent some other time and do it all myself for now.

The next annoying thing is that agents cost money, and money is not exactly something I am swimming in. The plan is to make my fortune writing novels, scripts and screenplays etc., but until I actually have money in my accounts, I can do diddly squat. So basically, until I catch a publisher by the neck and manage to steal a contract from his (or her) pocket, I'm stuck without money and without an agent. I think I could afford perhaps ten minutes of an agent's time.

Perhaps more concerning is that there are good agents and bad agents. But all of them are secret agents: You have to know where to look to find them. Then you have to gauge whether they're any good or not. Me being me, I can't do that. I think I shall have to inquire as to what to do, taking help from published authors and perhaps published authors' books on how to get an agent. Good golly, this is all a little larger than writing something brilliant, now isn't it?

I'm off to try and write more of this novel of mine. If I can finish it, it'll be rewrite time. If not, then everything I'm saying now will be next to pointless and I'll have a disappointed Danjo, an enraged Reemma and a genuinely broken me to deal with.

Writing for my life,
   Pisces

Bossing Folk About

It's easy to boss people around. Just look at your superior at work, or a teacher in school. They boss you around all the time, and frankly, it's easy. But there are few times that anyone beats the best of boss-around-ers. Who are these people? Simple.

They are called directors, and they are the proverbial bomb.

Directing in this sense is applicable to the field of producing films. A director for a film basically organises everyone and yells at the folk who get it wrong and hands out the cookies to those who do it right.

I love to direct things, especially my own short films that are taken from scripts or short stories. Why? There are two reasons. Firstly, I ususally have a good idea of what's going on in my head when I write something for a film. And second, I enjoy being in control.

Yes, I'm a bit of a control freak, but not all that much really. I mean, there are worse people for control and stuff, etc. But I'm pretty bad when it gets down to writing. Possessive apostrophes! Formatting! Correct placing of commas! It's all essential to me, and it freaks everyone out. But don't worry, I'm not as bad as, say, The Editor. (Note from The Editor: I concede your point, but need I remind you that I could kill every post you've ever written and replace it with a .gif of you making a silly face?)

If ever I am published, I will have the sorry soul who edits the thing list every single change they make as they make it, and I will compare the original and final documents VERY closely, then hand the better one to The Editor, who will then proceed to finalise it and somehow insinuate himself in it as a very minor character. (Don't think I didn't spot that trick with my story about the leaves that ate the cat, I know the little garden gnome sported exactly the same features as you do.)

I love to direct films: to tell people how to say a line, to get the cameraman in position, to tell people that their hair isn't exactly right and no, you cannot wear those shoes with those trousers, you must wear Wellington boots in this scene, as you shall be tramping through a thicket and I know for a fact that Wellington boots are uncomfortable. This is all your fault, you tried to defy me earlier. Sweat it out. Literally. It stinks, yes, but, my good sir, YOU shall be the stinky one soon. I know how your feet exude.

It is brilliant to be the conductor of this something, to rewind and replay scenes, to see everything knit together into a whole or, in some extreme cases, a hole. And when I sit in that chair and watch the final edit play before my eyes, I know what went into it, what memories it brings back.

Directing is the ultimate joy, and that's why I direct all my own films.

What I Hate, Right Here, Right Now

You know what I hate? Rewritable files. Files that can be rewritten. Why, you ask? Because I've gone and bloody rewritten one of them.

I had a perfectly good NaNoNovel going, 'Seeing Red', it's called. Today I decided that the laptop would be the device to use so that I could wander around the house and still work. All's well. I use the pendrive to transfer the 23,000 word file to the lappy. I sit in the living room and listen through three albums of Rush, finishing off a thousand-word section in more time than I'm strictly happy with. And then what do I do? I take it back through to the PC.

Plug in pendrive, open my PC's desktop. Oh, my old file's still up on the computer. Hit 'save'.

Instant rewrite: Way to murder a thousand words.

Now I have to write the same thousand words AGAIN, and I'm fizzing. Fortunately though, my novel goes on the theme of anger and what people do when angry, so perhaps I can channel it.

Spuff happens. we just have to learn to use a little plastic bag to pick it up and put it in the bin.

I'm Completely Insane! (That is all.)

Today I had one of those 'WTF' moments as I went on DeviantART. Rinrei here, by the way.

The day before, I decided that I was feeling particularly crazy while typing stuff on my computer in the middle of the night. This single thought went buzzing through my head as I was searching DeviantART. This thought remained in my head until I was forced to type it up. I was given no choice but to leave my thoughts to the mercy of the crowd.

This idea, no matter how ridiculous it sounds, was to create a live action series of Yuu yuu Hakusho (Spirit Detective). I'm not really sure why I thought of it, but either way, I got a response. Actually, I got a lot of responses.

This morning, I decided to accept my failure and went on to see if anyone actually cared about the idea to get a swarm of "Do it!" and "This will be epic!". For a moment, my heart stopped (and I fell to the ground and died). These people wanted me to do something that a movie producer usually fails at. Naturally, I was pleased.

Until reality decided to kick in and say:

"You know hardly anyone and most of the cast are males, don't you forget. Besides, it's not like people would actually be interested in taking part in this for you. I mean, live action, seriously? Do you know nothing about the world? Then think about the money. How many places would you have to pay to go into and how much money would the costumes and make-up cost? And the wigs? Most of the cast have weird hair colours anyway. How would you manage to pull off Botan flying in the sky and Yusuke being a ghost? Answer me this."

Yes, reality is a real jerk. I kicked him over a cliff, so that's one problem solved, but the main problem is still at hand. I'm saving up money as we speak and hunting down good locations. Sure, there aren't very many people I know, but my family is massive, so I'm sure to meet someone that can pull off the role at one point, surely?

Yes, I am going through with this. My sanity was burned and buried long ago and I'm already asking people if they would like to take part. Oh my, this might end badly.

Gold fish!
   Rinrei

That is to say...

Hello. This is Matt. Most of you have probably forgotten me and those of you who haven't probably weren't around to begin with. Sorry for taking so long; I've been caught up in a lot of shut up I don't have an excuse lately which severely impacts the time I can spend doing much of anything at all. I'm lying. Don't listen to a word I say; I've had plenty of time. Everyone should be playing the Binding of Isaac.
     Age. Epoch. Period. Era. Eon. SUPEREON! Sorry dinosaur fans; palaeozoic is the best. Care to disagree? You're wrong. Why?

Hey, kids! It's the squid fairy!

     Goodbye children. I may or may not post something of substanceat anypoint in the future. But for now, accept your demon flatfish and I bid you farewell. Ish.

I am a title. :D

I am writing this at exactly 2:12 AM after realizing that I am yet to sleep and yet to feel sleepy. What is the reason for this? Insomnia.

Not only is this common in teenagers, but it has happened to every single person in my family. Basically, it's like the family curse.

So, I decided to let you all know of my family curse and if I ever have a child, they will also have to curse and when they are five I will scream: THE CURSE WILL TURN ON YOU!

I also wanted to let Pisces know that having an inability to sleep means that you do not get as much work done. In fact, you are more likely to get less work done because you worry about waking the people that are actually able to sleep and the internet is slower at night.

That is all! Good night, scum!
   Rinrei

Ib: A Game Review.

Good morning, starshine. The earth says hello!

Well, with that introduction out the way, I suppose I have a review up again. This time, it isn't to do with an anime, but a lovely game I know as Ib. Ib was created in Japan as a horror puzzle game, so it was only natural I get involved.

However, upon starting the game I noticed something different about this horror; it was set in an art gallery. While it is hard to believe that art galleries can be scary at any possible time, this game managed to do it.

The puzzles are rather complex at times and simple at others, but either way, if you don't solve said puzzle, chances are you're going to be killed by an evil exhibit. Yes, in this horror game, the exhibits come to life. Such examples are the 'Lady in Red' (or green or blue or yellow or...you get the point) which, if you get too close, spring out of their portrait and begin clawing their way towards you. It'd be easy to avoid them if you didn't have to get close to them to make the story progress.

The animation itself isn't all that great, considering it's 2D animation (like Harvest Moon), but you don't really look to much into that when you're being attacked by once-innocent portraits and statues.

One thing I love specifically about this game is the music, which is simple, but still hits a nerve if you take the time to listen to it. It has a sweet feeling to it with an underlining tone of danger, which gives the game an innocent feel and only if you listen to it again to you realize there might be something threatening lurking under the surface. I love how the music mainly consists of two or three instruments and they are able to pull of such wonderful music.

The plot itself is interesting, although you don't pay much attention until you get a happy ending and you decide to check wikipedia for it. The whole set is interesting and has never been used before, which is why it is so good. The fact that this all started because of a single, lonely portrait really makes you feel sorry for the portrait (until you realize she's an evil sadistic witch which is when you start hating her). One thing in specific I love about this game is that you can get many different endings depending on your actions, and while most of them make you want to cry or scream out in frustration, you still like the ending for what it is. I still look for the happiest ending though.

Now, while this game doesn't hesitate to bring out a bit of violence, it also has subtle, childhood fear. Being in a dark place all by yourself is certainly something that scares you, and in the game, you can't help but check every corner in case there's something lurking just around the bend. The doll room is certainly something that I hate (considering I detest dolls with a passion). I hate it when you end up being locked in said room and you randomly have to check the dolls to find a key to exist, all the while there is a clock ticking and something is creeping out of the portrait, so if you don't make it, all goes to hell. I, for the first time, failed to find the key in time and the other characters entered the room while I have having a delusional conversation with rabbit ornaments (naturally, I was slapped back into reality). This goes to show that the game also enjoys bringing a bit of humour/craziness into the scene.

My favourite scene throughout the game was the sketchbook, which is basically like normal scenes, but has the appearance of children's scribbles, which gives you a creepy feel and, naturally when there is scary music playing, makes you want to get out of there fast. Finding your way around the sketchbook is difficult and it was very common for me to get lost while looking for an exit.

The villain itself is someone that you can't help but feel is a bit off, but you're not quite sure whether they're bad in any way. When they start acting off, you know that this is going to end badly and only later, with another character, do you realize the truth, and even then, it's difficult to get rid of her.

In conclusion, Ib may have the appearance of a sweet, innocent game with a young main character and simple animation, but when that portrait is dragging its way towards you, you know that this can only get worse.

I give this an 8/10. Great job, I only wish it was longer.

Signing off!

Rinrei

P.S: You can actually download this for free online in English.

WriMo's Chewing My Soul

Well, I've made a miraculous discovery. I have a soul. I know, because NaNoWriMo is rapidly devouring it.

NaNoWriMo is fairing not-so-great in these waters - at present, I'm 6K down, but that's 1K less than yesterday, so yippee for me. I had a 3K day yesterday, which was nice - it meant that I'm returning to the norm.

I started WriMo three days late after a wake-up call from friend and subscriber Jane Ganberg (hello to you, wherever you are right now!). That was quite the way to start WriMo. And, seeing as I had no plan - at all - I decided that it would be best to go with the novel that I had already started, 'Seeing Red'. So it is that the first part of this definitely dire work is appearing here, on the Kettle, for your delight and delectation.

*

Anger. Intense anger. All I feel is hate, saturating every fibre of my being. Hate for this place. Hate for my family.


Hate for myself.

The door slams shut behind me – a heavy bang that I feel as a thump in my chest. The action doesn’t serve to release the pent-up rage as it should. Instead, it does the opposite, fuelling the fire that burns in my mind. That wasn’t the sound of my door slamming. In fact, that wasn’t my door. More than anything right now, I want to slam my door, to hear the specific crash of wood on wood that I know to be my door. But I know deep down that I’ll never hear that sound again. It isn’t my door. This isn’t my house. This isn’t my home.

Not my home.

I stuff my hands deep into my pockets and make my way across the lawn, hot tears welling up in my eyes. I hate myself for being weak as my throat constricts. I twist around to glare back at the ridiculous building that now belongs to my family.

Cromwell Hall is an enormous construction of brick and mortar; a gothic building of biblical proportions sat at the centre of a sea of green. Some might see it as a baroque marvel of architectural ingenuity. I think it’s a giant waste of materials, as useless as a shredder with eggshell teeth. No-one needs a house that size. In fact, house is the wrong word. The word ‘manor’ suits it better. After all, that’s what it really is.

The gravel driveway meanders lazily across the estate, parting it like a wedge. It’s populated with large delivery vans. Men in baseball caps and overalls shift cardboard cubes by hand or with the aid of dollies, which seem to be having a hard time on the rough surface. In truth, I should be back there, helping out. But why should I help? I’m not going to aid the fools who brought me here, those who tore me from my home.

We had everything we needed back in England – a nice, cosy house, food and running water, central heating and air conditioning. I had a good school and good friends to match it. The town was friendly and suited my needs: there was the shopping mall, the leisure centre, the arcade, the park… And what did we exchange it for? An estate that we can never hope to maintain and a building with twelve miles of corridors squashed inside its musty interior. The driveway, rather than being a few metres in length, is over a mile long. Who needs such things!? Not us, I’m sure. But here we are, far from home, being hopelessly optimistic in thinking that we can even pay the electricity bill. That’s assuming that the place has electricity. The way my week’s going, I wouldn’t be surprised if we have to wash our clothes in the local river.

I pull my jacket closer. It’s freezing outside. My breath shows as a white cloud before me when I exhale. We would never get this in England. Why, of all places to go, did we have to go to Scotland?

I curse the land. The cold, hard ground gives me no sympathy. The crunch of the frosted grass mocks me. And the anger returns, more potent than ever.

A dark line of trees looms up before me, and I realise that I’ve gone as far as I can go this day. Night is falling – I check my watch; it’s only five o’clock – and I’d rather not have to anger my father more than is strictly necessary. With a spark of surprise, I notice that the mere thought of him has caused me to unconsciously clench my fist. Yes, that reaction seems to be an accurate expression of my feelings towards him.

The start of the forest is now but feet away – I can go no further, unless I wish to run the risk of getting lost in a Scottish forest in the dark. My day’s been bad enough; I don’t need to end it by freezing to death. I remove my frozen fingers from my pockets and blow on them. Yes, time to go back now.

With no little displeasure, I turn around and start walking slowly back towards the manor. I don’t want to go back, but there’s really no alternative. And, what’s more, I would loathe to be letting anyone entertain thoughts of my frozen teenage body being found by some Scots farmer. No, that wouldn’t do at all. I can’t allow them that pleasure.

I bare my teeth and narrow my eyes. On I walk, back across the lawn; back towards the house.

On I walk in the knowledge that within the scabby walls of Cromwell Hall waits my family.

*

And so WriMo continues to progress. Now I must get back to writing. Adios, amigos, hasta luego and all that good stuff. I shall be here later, I hope - that is, unless NaNo eats my soul.

Regards,
   Piskegs.

Anime Reviews: Monster

I'm not sure why I'm posting, I just am. Maybe I am delaying the fact that my English teacher gave me homework over the holidays, but he didn't actually tell us what we were supposed to do. I NEED TO BE TOLD STUFF OR STUFF BURNS!

Considering I can't listen to anything on the computer due to my injured ears (lord knows how I managed that), I am instead going to do a review. What of? Je ne c'est pas. All I will tell you is that it is an anime. You can never escape the anime freak! Even though I'm not much of an anime freak any more (considering that most of them are just plain stupid and cheesy now), but this is a classic to me. This is a review of one of my favourite suspense animes that I dare say is on the same level as Death Note. This is Monster.

Let's start with the overview of the plot (which I stole borrowed from wikipedia):

Dr. Kenzō Tenma is a young Japanese doctor, working at Eisler Memorial Hospital in Düsseldorf in 1986. An accomplished brain surgeon, he seems to have everything: a promotion in the offing; the favor of the hospital's director, Heinemann; and Heinemann's daughter Eva as his fiancée. However, Tenma is increasingly dissatisfied with the political bias of the hospital in treating patients, and seizes the chance to change things after a massacre brings twins Johan and Anna Liebert into the hospital. Johan has a gunshot wound to his head, and Anna mutters about killing; Tenma decides to operate on Johan instead of the mayor of Düsseldorf, who arrived later. Johan is saved, but Mayor Roedecker dies; Tenma loses his social standing (and Eva) as a result. However, Director Heinemann and the other doctors in Tenma's way are mysteriously murdered, and both children disappear from the hospital soon afterwards. The police suspect Tenma, since he benefits from the turn of events; however, they have no evidence and can only question him.

Nine years later, Tenma is Chief of Surgery at Eisler Memorial. After saving a criminal named Adolf Junkers after Junkers was hit by a car, he hears Junkers muttering about a "monster". Tenma is kind to Junkers, who reciprocates by opening up to the doctor. One evening, when Tenma returns with a clock as a gift for Junkers, he finds the guard in front of Junkers' room dead and Junkers gone. Following the trail to the construction site of a half-finished building near the hospital, Tenma finds Junkers held at gunpoint. Concerned for Tenma's safety, Junkers warns him against coming closer and pleads with him to run away. Tenma refuses, and the man holding the gun is revealed to be Johan Liebert, the boy whose life Tenma saved nine years earlier. Despite Tenma's attempts to reason with him Johan shoots Junkers; telling Tenma he could never kill the man who saved his life, he walks off into the night, with Tenma too shocked to stop him.

After this incident Tenma is again suspected by the police (particularly Inspector Runge), and he tries to find more information about Johan. He soon discovers that the boy's sister (now called Nina) is living a happy life as the adopted daughter of two caring parents; the only traces of her terrible past are a few nightmares. Tenma finds Nina on her birthday; he keeps her from Johan, but is too late to stop him from murdering her foster parents. Tenma eventually learns the origins of this monster: from the former East Germany's attempt to use a secret orphanage known as "511 Kinderheim" to create perfect soldiers through psychological reprogramming to the author of a children's book used in a eugenics experiment in Czech Republic. Tenma also learns the scope of the atrocities committed by this "monster", and vows to fix the mistake he made by saving Johan's life.

Interesting plot, no? Personally, when I first heard of this, I thought it was going to be really cheesy and ridiculous, but the moment you watch the opening, you realize that this is on a whole new level. I watched the first episode and was instantly hooked by the plot and the characters. They are completely different from your average anime characters and you just love to see them over and over again.

Another thing that makes this anime so good is how it manages to fit in so many side-stories that all co-exist with the main plot. You meet new characters for the first time and usually they only last for about an episode, but you feel as though you've known them all your life.

Now, I suppose it's time to talk about the characters. Well, three of them really: Tenma, Johan and Nina.

Be prepared when he comes to your door, because Johan isn't far behind.

This is Dr Tenma. At the start, he is a gifted Japanese Neurosurgeon and head of the department. He is a humanitarian and sees everyone as equals. He detests the way of the hospital, but does nothing to stop it except for when Johan is brought into the hospital after a bullet to the head. His conscience kicks in and he helps the boy instead of the Mayor who suddenly collapsed on his holiday. The boy survives, but the Mayor died in the surgery and Dr Tenma is demoted, with someone else taking his place and him losing his fiance. Weeks later, the director of the hospital as well as two doctors that ridiculed Dr Tenma mysteriously die and Tenma takes his place as the head of department. It is later revealed, many years later, that the young boy that Dr Tenma saved is the one that killed them. Full of guilt at saving what is discovered to be a monster, he vows to kill Johan. 

I think that Dr Tenma is a great contrast to most anime heroes who are usually unable to fend for themselves and manage to solve the worlds problems through their loving personality. (Bleh!) While Dr Tenma is a humanitarian and is known for his acts of kindness to most people he meets, he is fully capable to doing what he has to to fulfill his duty. Despite the fact that he has made it his duty to kill Johan, he keeps most of his original personality and at times even doubts his objective and hesitates when faced with Johan with a gun. You can't help but feel bad for him when he goes through trouble because he is such a great person and when he gets upset, it is really difficult to watch. 

With a whole new perspective on the good guy gone bad but not quite there, Dr Tenma is one character you'll just love.

Brought to you by the 'pee your pants' delivery service

Johan Liebert is the antagonist of the series and the 'monster' referred to in the title. He has been called the monster, the devil and Hitler reincarnated. As you can tell, he's not a very nice person. He was shot in the head as a child and saved by Tenma, so sees him as a father figure of sorts (not sure if I'd want him looking up to me). He claims to love his sister (despite his overall lack of proper emotions) and does show loyalty towards her. He goes to different places under different aliases (in the process killing his 'parents' when he gets bored) and is shown to have high charisma and intelligence. Sadly, for those who get in his way (ie. everyone) is is cunning, manipulative and deceitful. He is shown to be nice to children, although he doesn't hesitate to show them a lovely new game in which they close their eyes and balance across the edge of a roof to see which one survives the fall (if I ever have kids, I know who I'm not letting baby sit). His objective, as he states while a child, is to be the last person surviving on earth. (I know they tell you to think big at that age but aren't you going a bit overboard?) However, he appears to want Tenma to kill him. (I will not do a psychological theory here, I'll leave that to the anime.)

I will not deny, the first moment I met Johan, I was absolutely terrified. Sure, I've been called crazy myself, but just look at those eyes! Those eyes are the eyes of someone with no soul. To me, Johan is the incarnation of evil. Not only does he survive a bullet, he survives it twice. I am not sure how that is possible. We are told that Johan has many traits of that of the anti-christ, so I did some research, and this is true, which only adds to the reason why he is scary. I think the horrors he went through as a child have something to do with the reason for his twisted personality, but its at the point where every time you meet him in the anime, even when he's nice, you feel a chill running down your spine. There's also something about his voice, which is so calm and soothing that it makes you uncertain whether you want to run away screaming or if he's just having a friendly chat and doesn't want to kill you. It's difficult to tell.

Either way, this is one villain that is certain to leave you shaking in fear if he ever comes through the door (leans back in seat and checks hallway). 

Because what anime doesn't have a girl with a gun?

The only person left unharmed in the attack on her adopted family and Johan's twin sister. Nina is sweet, kind and in many ways, appears like Tenma. She is living a happy life with her new family (having gained amnesia from her life before) when her foster parents are killed by Johan who was on his way to picking her up on her 20th birthday. After remembering everything about her brother killing her previous family and many others, she sets out on the same duty at Tenma although she has different reasons and a different purpose. She is usually a pacifist, but will threaten to kill others if she feels it is necessary to protect those close to her. While she does not share the same personality as Johan (thank god), she shares the same fears. A perfect example is when she is reading a book that was used in the Orphanage (you'd have to watch the anime to understand) where she is frozen still in fear (Johan fainted when he read the book).

Personally, when I first met Nina, I though very little of her and just saw her as another female lead that would get the main characters attention. However, she has a big role to follow in the anime and is really the sort of character that you don't pay much attention to, but you really like near the end. I love her personality and the way she reacts to everything. Unlike most female leads, she can take care of herself and defend herself well. She is also the one that helps Tenma and tries to stop him from what he is doing (claiming that he would become a monster if he was to kill Johan). Not much else I can say other than I love her voice. (What? It's a great contrast to Johan's soullessness.)

Now for my overall option on the anime. This is certainly one of the few anime that pulls of a great mystery with so many characters. It has a realistic feel to it and the characters are so believable, you'd actually think they were real people. One thing in specific I love about this anime is the music which uses basic instruments to twist the scene into something sinister (one I like especially is when it was three instruments that sounded like a heartbeat). I love the opening and ending the most which have no lyrics and mainly consists of a choir and classical instruments, which really sets a peaceful mood. The anime would be nothing if it wasn't for the amazing characters and the suspense which makes you go for the next episode without hesitation. 

Great job, Naomi. I give this 10/10.

Signing off!

   Rinrei

The Meaning of Life and Why It's Just Too Damn Silly

Throughout your life, you'll be asked a very specific question by a handful of assorted people. That question is "What is the meaning of life." Most will answer with a strong argument backed up with evidence. Whereas I like to come up with a different answer everytime I get asked. Pisces, I'm writing this very late and I'm bushed, I'll finish up in the morning.

N.B. While I understand this, I'm on holiday and in no position to tell you anything, but I wish this complete.

Note from The Editor: Seeing as this will actually never be completed - ever - it is up to me to tell you what the meaning of life is.
   Life is an unusual thing, and therefore has an unusual meaning. The meaning? Simple: Worship The Editor.
   There, you have it. Now go on. Shower me with ultimate praise.

All of Everything in the Entire Universe

Today I found out it was Matt's birthday - not through the blog nor his sister. Instead, I learnt it through DeviantART.

I was casually checking out some awesome art (seriously, those people are god) when I got a notice saying that it was Matt's birthday today (in that case, one day).

Naturally, I decided to give him a lovely present that would suit him perfectly (and was free). What I gave him was a llama. No ordinary llama, either. An albino llama.

Of course Matt, being the kind person he is, tossed another llama back at me. We started a war of llama tossing. Except we didn't. DeviantART had enough of those wars going that they watched any llama battles really carefully to make sure it didn't last more than twelve seconds.

Considering this fact, I will now throw a super llama at you.

Happy Birthday, Matt!
   Rinrei

P.S: Rinrei is awesome.

A Very Positive Day

The time has come. Our beloved author, Matt, has become one year older and therefore, his laziness has also increased.

His stats before levelling up:

Mattness: 20            Reliability: 0
Laziness: 10000.      Social Skills: 0
Obesity: Likewise     Strangeness: *Insert 19 digit number here*
Franzness: 0             Overall Mattness: All depends on what 19 digit number you chose  for the previous
                                                          stat.

His stats after levelling up:

Everything is multiplied by his laziness level.

I hope he enjoys his day. If, however, he doesn't, then he shall be hanged.

Morskulentia - It Is Time

Matt, you lazy sod, it's your birthday. I feel an urge to deliver you a high speed present: a nicely wrapped fist. But I won't, because it's your birthday, and you must demand birthday punches unwrapped instead.

The mighty Human Beetroot has survived another year - how on Earth did he do it? Therefore, it is time to bestow a great honour upon him: the true naming. I name thee Franz of the Beetrootenstein, head of picnic hamper knitting and obesity at the Kettle. You shall forever hold this title, even if you die. We shall carve it into your tombstone, your piano, your left foot. And forever you shall be a year older.

Happy birthday, Matt. Enjoy Franzeening around.

Regards,
   Pickles

August 2012 Update

July hasn't been the most fandabble-e-doo of months, but I see an upside in sight! It is now August, and we all know what that means.

Yup, it's August.

August holds surprises galore in store for the various Kettlers here. For example, some shall be getting exam results on the 7th. Calendar: marked. People return to school later on, having realised that perhaps education hasn't been cut from the curriculum by MPs just yet. And of course there's the wondrous month that we all know and love: NaNoWriMo.

The original NaNoWriMo occurs in November and is jokingly referred to as 'big NaNo', though the target's the same: Write 50,000 words as a novel in 30/31 days. It's enormous fun. Some months are designated 'Camp NaNoWriMo', which is just a diluted version with the same goal. And here I am, deciding that perhaps November isn't the time to do NaNo this year. No, August must suffice.

Unfortunately I've started three days late and am presently 6,500 words down, but a day can change everything. If only I weren't busy today. Hm.

Asides from WriMo, this month should be millpond-like. But don't go thinking that it'll be boring. Not at all. After all, when is the Kettle ever truly boring? When The Eternal Editor's round for tea.

Kind regards for August,
   Pisces

I Return Once Again

This is Pisces announcing a safe return. Yippee. We like to return home safely.

Apologies for the delayed August Update; it's in progress. I'm swamped with mail, filming, holiday clubs and a new NaNoWriMo challenge to meet. I must fight, battle, win! A question it is not, Yoda I am.


Me.

I must leave you to write a ridiculous amount this day.

Regards,
   Pisces