Judge Dredd

Heeey!! I’ve watched Judge Dredd today and oh goodness was it amazing! I loved almost everything about it. Especially since I’ve seen the original, I thought it was a lot nicer that they decided to put it more into the darker aspect. Instead of making it kid-friendly. Which reminds me, it’s rated R, and there were two kids watching Dredd. Wow.

I was lucky that my theater had it in 2D because I can’t stand 3D. I was kind of wanted to watch it in 3D when they slow-mo came on, rather than that, I don’t want to waste my money on 3D.

SPOILERS: My favorite scene was when Anderson escaped and then the crooked Judge appeared and was like, “I’m here to help you!” then Anderson used her magical power and was all like, “Not you not! >:[” (she didn’t really say that). And then she shot the judge and stepped over her. Best fight scene ever.

ANOTHER SPOILER: The other favorite is the minigun scene 😀 that was amazing. My eardrums felt like it was going to burst, but it was worth it.

This isn’t a review, because if it was, it’s a terrible one.

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Nobody Will Know

I’ve decided we don’t talk about loneliness because we really don’t want to. Study after study has shown that we’re growing exponentially more isolated: we’re losing confidants at an unprecedented rate, spending more time alone, living in solitary households, and visiting less with family and friends. As loneliness becomes a greater threat in people’s lives, it becomes an increasingly taboo subject.

Because we’re scared of loneliness, we sidestep it. We call it depression. We say that those struggling with long-term loneliness aren’t really confronting what they say they’re confronting. Compared to loneliness, depression is attractive; it’s safe. You can take a pill for depression; you can buy Mind Over Mood or Lifting Depression. You can engage in talk therapy.

Loneliness is murkier. It’s less controllable. It says something about our lives today–about the lack of connection many of us feel—about the way social ties are fracturing like glass. There’s no pill for loneliness, no instant cure. Even talk therapy cannot always fill the deep chasm in lonely people’s emotional lives.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/giles-slade/loneliness-not-depression_b_514809.html

It has been a month or two since I’ve realized that I am suffering from loneliness. I was ignorant at the time, and I was thinking of the closest thing of what was affecting me. And that was depression. The feeling within my heart when I had an enlightenment in seventh grade was the worst feeling in the world. It still hurts today. I always wonder if I had a condition of some sort where there was something wrong with my heart. But in reality, as I’ve been to the doctor many times to check, it was just me who was hurting myself.

A long-term loneliness is a terrible thing to go through. I’ve chosen the longer path where I will suffer and there will be many more to come. I am stricken with cowardice, and it is hard for me to make friends.

If somebody I know is reading this, I am not sorry. I do not consider anybody my friend, and that is the first step for me toward the path of loneliness. I cannot trust anybody, I doubt everything. I am paranoid about many things. I imagine the worst situation possible. And worst of all, I always expect something that I know will never come true. This is all just for me to experience the pain that sticks to my throat and makes it hard for me to breathe.

Life for me is difficult, mentally. It is especially when I give the people my full attention, and yet they turn to ignore me. Maybe I’ve turned to ignore you, but that’s only because you’ve done it to me.

There is envy within me. I wished to be like everybody else–living a carefree life. And I respect the ones that has it rough–living a life with a wall they can’t climb over. I can never say that they are like me, and they are not me. I am not in their shoes, and I will not say that they’re going through the same thing as me. Pain is different for everybody, and it comes in many ways.

I have no interest of your problems.
How can I help,
when I have my own predicament.

I may say that I don’t care, but it is in my nature. My first answer is usually no. Answers cannot come from me, my only job is to guide you to the right person who can actually help you. Like said above, I have no interest in your own problem when I have my own.

La Tale

I want to play this game so badly, yet I cannot play it! This is pretty b.s! I’m having the amazing lag of movement delay. Yeah, I may have terrible connection, but I blame it on OGPlanet. Lol. That’s what Americans do right? We blame it on other people. Any who, I miss playing La Tale. That’s all.

I uninstalled it and am now currently downloading Rumble Fighter. It’s the game that wasted so much of my money. And I wonder even after all these years, will I love it still?

Anyways, I’m actually going onto another topic.

I’ve (kind of) finished rewriting ISWAL and I’m currently thinking of what is next. This is taking a while. I really wanted to write the other storyline, since I’m thinking about basing it on the main characters. Each main gets their spotlight.

However, I’m stuck at one of the main character, who is Lunette. She complicates me.

 

EDIT: Apparently Rumble Fighter does not appease me. Anybody knows of a good online game?

It Started With A Letter

Prologue

It started with a letter—a letter that led me on such a miraculous and terrifying journey. And a letter I kept until my final days. I had met many people, many who were irreplaceable even ‘till my death.

It was a quiet summer. The mail carrier went and did his job. He handed me the letters since he knew I usually left the house for a morning walk at the exact same time as he arrived. It meant that I had to go back and put down the letters on the coffee table. If you opened the front door, the first thing that you’d see was the living room and its polar bear carpet. It had a one-two step stair made of white and strong marbles. The inner decoration of this house reminded me of an asylum and their quiet rooms. Too bright.

When I slipped my shoes off and dropped the letters on the table, I saw one of them that stuck out to me.

To: Valiant Lave

From: Tyler Varando

I can’t say it’s a letter, but rather, a birthday or greeting card. It opened vertically and inside contained such vocabularies, “Where are you?”

Three years since I last met him and he appeared to be the same idiot that I knew just from this. No, his brain probably degraded even more without me. Or maybe this was a trap. Heck, it was a good one. I had the urge to write back just to scold him. Although there wasn’t an address found anywhere, so it meant that Tyler handed it to the mail carrier. He must be close.

Shoving my shoes back on, I darted out of the house with the card glued to my left hand. For once, he was in town, and he asked for me. If it was such a vague question like that, he possibly thought it was a brilliant puzzle for me to solve. Perhaps it had something to do with our younger days. Oh, and was it marvelous. Tyler often yelled, “Where are you?” at the playground because he knew that I was hiding there somewhere. I was proud of him; he was using part of his brain. That was an improvement. If I could shed a tear, I would.

The playground wasn’t far, but it wasn’t at a pace where I could walk there within five minutes. From my neighborhood, I had to make a left and head straight for a couple of blocks, and then I would hit the obvious attraction for families. It was a park slash a playground for kids; this was where all the drama happened back in elementary. When I did get to my destination, I saw a boy sitting on the swings, whistling a familiar tune. He hit all those low marks as if he had done this a thousand times. “Dark Summer’s Day,” I blurted.

He stopped. His coated brown hair that took the spotlight and the only place that was left of his original color was his sideburns, it gleamed black. Then he examined me with his russet eyes. A smile peaked upon the corners of his mouth and he had to yell out, “Vallerie!”

Three years and he still called me by the name that I despised with an iron fist. So I clenched my hands, biting my lips in order to keep myself from jabbing him when he closed up. Swinging his arms around me, I was snuggled like a teddy bear. I played along for the sake of his fun—for two seconds—but then I pushed him away afterwards. “What are you doing here?”

“To wonder where you are,” he replied.

“I’m here,” I said.

“But you’re not with me,” a bold statement. Tyler was always too thickheaded to know when to leave me alone back then.

I couldn’t help but to smile at his foolishness. “We’re not kids anymore, Tyler. And don’t say anything like that again, you sound stupid.” After seeing his pathetic smile of defeat, I continued, “So what have you been doing for the past three years?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Something completely off topic.

“About what? You leaving town and out of connection for good?”

He nodded. “My family is a respected and feared family on this island. Each and every one of us is required to go to the school that our family put a lot of their income in, St. Arkive. It’s a tradition.”

“Ah, so what you’re saying is that your family took you away from this place because there’s so much trouble that you’ve caused and that the school district here is terrible.”

“Pretty much,” he groaned. “I’m really sorry for that.”

“Are you here just to apologize? Because this is pathetic. ‘I’m sorry I left you in this dump and went on to a better life.’”

Tyler shook, his eyes determined. “I want you to go to St. Arkive.”

“What are you? An advertiser recruiting new students?” I was unwavered.

He chuckled at my dry joke, but added, “Don’t you want to leave this place?”

Tyler, you live here for about three or four years and you’re saying that this place is an abomination? Oh, I loved to say that, but I couldn’t. I had agreed with him. “You’re right. I would love to get out of this place. But do you really think that I want to be with you?”

He bobbed his head like a child waiting for his prize. My face rested on the palm of my main hand as I sighed at his stupidity. This made a silence between us. And guessed who broke it? Tyler stretched his arms out and within his hands laid an actual letter. He said, “Take it.”

So I did.

Then, he bowed to me, told me to have a good day, and left. He left me in the playground, just like before. Oh, déjà vu.

When I got tired of watching his figure become smaller and smaller, I went back home. My eyes kept at the letter. It was white, but squared. On the front, it said, “For Valiant.”

¨¨¨

I entered my home, greeted my mother, and head upstairs to my room. The sun was setting, and darkness would soon cover my room. Flipping the light switch on and making my way to the table, I opened the letter in the gentlest manner I could. It looked like it could be reattached with no problem. I began to read. Astonishment overwhelmed me.

 

 

For more, look at my tab. Or to the left where it says ISWAL.

What a Twat

So, I’m a member of the Protagonize website. It’s a pretty good writer’s website. One thing that I like about it is that it recommends you to upload it page by page instead of chapter by chapter. It makes reading a lot easier. But today, I’m just pissed.

I was writing a critique on this one story. And trust me, it is pretty bad. Well, the writing is bad, but the storyline itself is pretty interesting. So I gave her (it’s probably a female) my honest opinion. I ever helped her by telling her all the misspelled words (and trust me, there were a lot). This is the basic thing that you will get when you write a story, somebody will critique you and they can be mean or nice if they want to. That is how you get better in writing.

But guess what she does? She deletes her story and then republish it, which means that my critique went down the toilet. Holy crap, are you seriously kidding me? She got butt hurt!

I’m not joking about this, but I am extremely pissed off. I put effort into that critique and this is how she answers? What in god’s name is this wench on? This might be a bit rude, but you can’t be a writer if you’re gonna get butt hurt by the review that I did. You’re not gonna learn from your mistakes if you just erase it out of your goddamn head. This bloke is just completely terrible! Oh, just right now, she left the Critique Wanted group. Wow.

She made a topic for that group, and this is what she should be expecting. -_-

Ah, I thought she could improve, but I guess not.

Sharing is not Caring.

Well, it is. But in the situation that I was in, it wasn’t. The one thing that I hate the most is when people think that they know me so much that they don’t even ask if they could eat what I’m eating. Especially my family, I hate that the most. I’m sorry, but, when it comes to food, I am quite the pig and I tend not to share unless I feel really caring for somebody’s needs (most of the time when I’m outside of my house).

So I was just eating good old fashion bread and egg. It was a single serving, made for only me. And to be honest, that was about the only dinner I had. In my house, there are two families. Mine, and somebody else. I never care to actually remember what their last name was (even though we’re related and we’ve lived with each other for at least six or so years). Yeah, I was eating, and then suddenly my uncle came out and saw. He just took 1/3 of it. At that point, I was pissed already since I hated my uncle. Yet I couldn’t really say anything since I’ll get in trouble for being rude… even though he was the rude one. He left, so I was thanking myself and tried to go back to eating. Then came his daughter–my cousin. She started to do the same thing, except she was actually staying ’till the end.

With my cousin, I just burst and told her not to eat my food. Guess what the comments were? “Oh, why are you being so rude? Why are you being so crazy?” [Crazy is a term that we use a lot as a family when we want to say that you’re rude].

Seriously? I’m the one being rude? At least I have table manners and at least I ask you if I could have a bite of whatever you were eating or something along that line. I don’t just suddenly come and eat your goddamn food whenever I feel like it. If I wasn’t so hungry, maybe I could’ve tolerated it a bit more and just let them pick up everything. However, I was hungry, and I still am! This happened about three minutes ago. I don’t know what else to eat anymore.

You know what? Bread and egg is kind of a family thing. But why can’t they at least ask me if they wanted some? To my cousin, I could’ve said yes. My uncle, on the other hand, I’ll just tell him no because I still hate him. It’s my choice if I want to share or not.

They don’t know me, they don’t know anything about me. I don’t know anything about them. Just because we live under the same roof doesn’t mean that I’m ready to let anybody eat what I’m eating.

 

Such a stupid topic, I know. I was frustrated, and I needed to get it out of my system. I feel fine now c: