Grammar battle

Rhiannimated: ok, I have a question. Does this sentence make sense to you? 90% of all the good music in the world did not happen in the past 10 years.
Joey-seph:  no
Joey-seph: 99% of all the good music in the world did not happen in the past 10 years … is more like it
Rhiannimated: I love you
Joey-seph: haha, I love you too
Rhiannimated: Ryan has been fighting me since yesterday that that sentence doesn’t make sense grammatically
Joey-seph: and, although we don’t agree 100% on music … I think we both can agree … there ain’t much good lately, lol … oh
Rhiannimated: so when you said no , he was like HAH! Then he walked away and you sent the rest
Joey-seph: oh, HAHAHAHAHA!
Rhiannimated: and I burst out laughing
Joey-seph: hehehehe
Rhiannimated: and he came over and read it and just shook his head and walked away
Joey-seph: oh, I am SO glad that just happened

Sorry for the long absence, all! We’ve been busy bees with our day jobs and writing the book and tweeting our Taftkan adventures. Don’t worry, I plan to post weekly updates when I have enough tweets, expanding on why I needed certain buffs or how I ended up banished to Ebwidar with no armor.

“It’s a jungle out there, kitties. Have a very fruitful day!”

Dreams

The other day my sister told me I sounded like a fifteen-year-old girl talking about how I’m going to be famous and rich and have everything I’ve always wanted. It annoyed me, but when I asked myself why, it got me thinking about dreams. Some people don’t dream at all, because they are afraid they’ll never get it and it will hurt more than they could stand. When I started thinking from the perspective, I pulled up the question: What is the worst that can happen from working on these novels with Joey?

The Worst:

One would think the worst that could happen is failing: we never finish the book, nobody wants to publish it or it gets published and no one likes it. That would be pretty bad, but I’d still have the experience of being a novelist, something I never thought I’d actually have. Not to mention, we’re only a few chapters from the end of the rough draft, so I don’t think the first failure, of not finishing the novel, will happen. There is still the chance that no one will publish it or like it, but I find that doubtful.
We’re writing with our contemporaries, much like every time period I ever studied in British, American, or World lit. The classes are all about, “How is this similar to who came before and how is it different?” We are taking what is popular at the time and integrating the elements we like while making fun of the elements that we dislike.
And if no one likes what we write, we still have the experience, one that has brought Joey and I closer together than I thought possible. Which brings me to the absolute worst thing that could happen in this venture, and it could happen before or during publishing: something could turn into a huge argument between us and end our friendship forever.

I don’t think this could possibly happen. If it was going to, I imagine it would’ve happened already. Luckily for us, we’ve spent a lot of time fighting about useless things in the duration of our friendship and have therefore learned how to navigate an argument into something useful; every time we have an argument about the book, the story gets even better.

The Best:

Obviously the best case scenario is that our book catches the world’s imagination and we soar into the consciousness of our audience. That I’ll become a New York Times bestselling author, something I’ve wanted since I read Stephanie Plum and saw that splashed on every one of Evanovich’s books.  And maybe saying things like that does sound naïve. But if I didn’t go after this chance, I would be absolutely insane, especially since the worst that can happen seems so utterly unlikely. Let them say no to us; they can’t take away the artistic genius that has come from our writing partnership or the fun we’ve had along the way.

Hotdogs, the Adjective

If you are not yet acquainted with Eddie Izzard, watch this video:

In celebration of this BRILLIANT joke, I’ve decided to “officially” classify hotdogs as an adjective.  I already use it frequently, and now I’ll have a frame of reference for all those who are foozled by my use of the common noun as such.

On Progress

The real intention of this blog was to chat about the progress we’ve been making on the book.  It’s been, well, hotdogs!  It’s amazing and a half to the square root of pi.

Learning about yourself is a tricky thing.  There have been many bumps in the road for us, but we’ve taken them on one by one.  The first one being the fact that we can’t rush the process.  Oh it would be nice if Rhiannon and I could put this book on the fast track, but the more we try to do it the more evident it becomes that we can’t.

We’ve set out to write a great–if not THE great–American Fantasy of our generation.

A Dream Longstanding

Looking back on my life, I can see how destiny was pushing me in this direction.  I was a sophomore in Lowell High School and there was nothing I wanted to do more than write.  I wrote short stories, poem, I even had a couple ideas kicking for a novel (fantasy, of course).  I was a voracious reader and my best friend was the librarian.

The only problem was, I couldn’t finish writing many of the things I started.  Sometimes it was hard to GET started in the first place.  So, I asked a good friend, Rachel (my first “wife” and fellow author), to write a novel series with me.  My goal was to write something epic–Tolkien in complexity.  I was even attempting to invent my own language.

Admittedly, most of the work I was doing I was hardly interested in.  I assumed, because that’s the way other authors came up with their magical worlds, that was the way I had to do it as well.  Needless to say, all this work go on Rachel’s nerves, and we fought about essential plot points so much that we worked together less than a month before decided it had been a bad idea.  Then I met Rhiannon …

Two Peas in a Pod

Okay, so it was a couple years later that I met Rhiannon.  I had discovered my sexuality, lost a bit of interest in writing, and was finally putting myself out there.  Up to this point I’d been a rather shy kid.  High school really transformed my personality.  It taught me courage, and how to be a comedian.

Then, this annoying kid in French class pressured me to join the Spindles (the Lowell High Show Choir).  You see, they were badly in need of male vocalists.  Male bodies is what they were after really.  I didn’t even have to audition to get in.  I was just expected to show up at the first rehearsal the next year.  Thank god for Rich!

Oddly enough, I’d spent the entire previous year with Rhiannon and didn’t even know it.  She shared that same French class with me.  Of course, she was on the other side of the classroom with her nose in a book 90% of the time.  She got in trouble once or twice for giggling out loud, but the teacher hardly noticed.

Rhiannon was a soprano in the show choir, and I ended up a tenor.  We ended up hitting it off rather quickly, once in the chorus room–to the point where we had to switch seats in order to sit next to each other.  We’d annoyed those between us to the extent that they were more than willing to move aside.

It wasn’t long before I asked Rhiannon to try writing with me.  She was wary, and didn’t jump.  Not that I blame her.  Writing with someone else is a lot of work.  Two egos to contend with, and we both knew mine was strong (still is).

A Pregnant Pause

Later, she went to college.  I tried to go to college, but found the environment wasn’t what I wanted.  Even going to multiple schools.  I just wanted to write, but I still had a hard time finishing anything of great length.

So, what did I do?  I joined the military.  It wasn’t I was half way across the world did I have the determination to pick up the pen and finally finish something.  After I got out of the Marines, in January of 2007, it took me four months to complete the writing of the most melodramatic family drama the world has ever seen.  There was no magic, at least nothing that could be classified as fantasy.  However, I was proud.  The 512 page, 100,000+ word novel was a completed rough draft of an entire book.

Destiny’s Inspiration

Rhiannon, being the GREAT friend she is, was honest about the book.  She hated it.  Even I admit, the thing is so sticky, the pages hardly turn.  It’s hard to believe it was the source for what we have now.  I took a risk, and asked her to write with me again.

Not without hesitation did she accept, but we promised each other not to take the project too seriously.  If it was putting strain on our friendship, it would have to end.  Turns out, it could be the best thing that happened to us.  It’s brought us to a point where we’re co-creating a world that’s always existed under the surface of our lives and it finally seeing the light of day.

I’m very pleased with our work.  And I apologize for not rereading this before posting, but family is arriving and I want to get this up.  Enjoy the video.  I’ll be back tomorrow with more to chat about, no doubt.  Maybe I’ll even tell a Taftkan tale.

Daniel Radcliffe Flashes the City of Lowell

Dreams

I’ve remembered the past two nights of dreams!  This excites me, since it’s usually Rhiannon who has the vividly entertaining dreams.  The first one was of Rhiannon and I bumping into an ex-boyfriend of mine.  Unexciting, but not an entirely disagreeable dream.

About an hour ago I woke up from a doozy of a dream, though.  I was walking down Exeter Street in Lowell, my old neighborhood, with Rhiannon.  There was the big gang of punks walking behind us.  We were getting nervous, because they were jeering us and we weren’t sure what they were going to do.

Then a car passed us, and hanging out of the rear passenger’s side door was a naked Daniel Radcliffe.  For the record, I haven’t seen Equus, but Rhiannon has.  Anyways, it wasn’t just Mr. Radcliffe in the car–it was all three of them!  They were shouting, “We did it! We’re finished!”  Making all sorts of whooping and hollering noises, rejoicing at the completion of the Harry Potter films.

When they saw that we were nervous at being followed, Mr. Radcliffe pulled up his pants, and the three of them ditched the car and walked with us–making our posse big enough to ward off any malingering ideas the gang had.

We walked into the yard of my old apartment building, and there was a caged skunk by the gate.  An orange cat jumped off the porch and sat in front of the cage, but the skunk scratched the cat.  He didn’t even use his stinking capabilities.  It was odd.

I asked if the three would like to come upstairs and meet my siblings and mother, but Mr. Radcliffe objected right away.  Emma Watson was all for it though.  Rupert Grint was, unfortunately, silent throughout the entire dream.

I woke up shortly after Mr. Radcliffe’s denial.  Can anyone divine a meaning out of this hodge-podge of a dream?  I see many influences, but the most fun about it was the remembering.

Gratitude

As I said in Home Cleansing, an essential component to magic – or anything else, really – is gratitude. Not only does it make you feel good, it makes the object of your appreciation feel great! There is something mystical about how emotion is not tangible, yet always given or received; be careful to give off good emotions and watch how they come back to you.

Gratitude is the base of all other good feelings we have. Yes, love even stems from gratitude. I know it is common to think that love and fear are the two ground level emotions, but really…what are they? To answer that question you have to figure out what love and fear means to you.

For me, the definitions are simple. Love you express by giving and receiving gratitude. Fear is not having the ability to do just that. No matter what religion or credo you guide your life by…giving love and gratitude to others takes a front seat. Even those who strive for the lime-light long to express their gratitude for success. [Rhiannon's two cents: Really? I don’t think Kanye West is thanking ANYONE. Just a thought. Joey's rebuttal: Yeah, yeah, yeah.]

Rhiannon and I believe we are on the brink of something big. We have huge dreams for the future, not only as writers of books – but as living inspiration for creative minds all over the world. We dream of sparking the imaginations of the young and old alike; of giving meaning to our poorly represented generation; of bringing magic back into the world. Real, true magic. And all these things start with gratitude.

My collaboration with Rhiannon would not be possible at all without the actions of one individual: Richard Hutchinson. Big Rich, if you hadn’t pressured me into joining the Lowell High School Spindles Show Choir, Rhiannon and I would have missed our connection and possibly our chance to join forces and make each others’ dreams come true. Thank you. In every possible way, thank you.

Riding the Wave?

Today began like most other days.  I woke up around 9:30am (a bit early for me on a day off), but not too unusual.  I don’t regularly wake up at any hour.  So I hop onto the computer.  Check my email and tweets.  I notice Rosie and Sandra (my little sisters) have tweeted some enigmatic notices for those interested.  I knew something was up and intended to call Rosie later.

I chat with Branden for a while, and we make tentative plans for that evening.

I wrote the next batch of Chapter Five of the book Rhi and I are so feverishly trying to finish draft one of by the 21st of September…a day that means many things.  It’s Rhiannon, Phil (my brother), and Emily’s (my niece; Sandra’s daughter) birthday.  It is also the symbolic first day of autumn, my favorite season, and it just so happens to be the day the next Mika album comes out.  Anyway, I digress.

I was ready for a break in writing.  I took the short walk over to Shaw’s Supermarket looking for inspiration for dinner.  I picked up a few pieces of fruit I like.  Got two desserts for myself and my mother at the bakery, then wandered over to the meat department.  It was sitting there – gleaming in it’s cellophane wrapping – begging to be taken home with me.  How could I refuse such a perfectly beautiful roast?  But the size of it, nearly five pounds.  Was is possible to slow cook this in time for dinner?  It was eleven thirty.  I asked the meat guy and he said 6-8 hours.  We’re late eaters, my mother and I, it would work.

When I get home, the first thing I do is put the roast in the crock pot.  Inspiration comes to me.  I don’t want to just fill the pot with water.  I want to give this roast some flavor.  I open all the cabinets – smelling and tasting spices and sauces and broths – OH me, oh my, such choices.  I go with my first instinct and add equal amounts of organic canned apple juice and water, rosemary, two bay leaves, and I season the roast with salt and pepper.  The fragrence, by the way, is amazing right now…I can’t wait to devour this roast.  Around 3:30 I’ll add the potatoes and carrots.  This should be a nice meal.

Back in my room I crack open the one and only Pepsi I’ve allowed myself to purchase today and sit back down at the computer.  I talk to Branden again and it seems he won’t be able to get together with me until later that night, and I had a sudden strong urge for Mommy-time.  I’d been neglecting her lately, and I knew it.  Whenever people come over we’re usually holed-up in my room.  Rhiannon and I are usually hard at work, and I usually keep my door shut nightly as a courtesy (I listen to music a bit too loud to leave my door open).  It has been about a month since Mom and I have had some “us” time.  We like our “us” time.  SO I cancel with Branden and we decide another time is best.

Then, before I get started writing again, I decide to call Rosie to see what was up.  I found out what she was stressed about, a private matter I don’t think appropriate to bring up here.  Although I will say that it ended with her telling me that Mom wanted her to come over tonight with Landon (my godson, Rosie’s son).  How lucky for her that I got such a large roast!  How lucky I just so happened to clear off my schedule to hang out with Mom tonight and be free to be there for her!  It was almost as if divine providence was guiding me through such a great day as it has been for me.  Giving me the urge to cook real food, then finding the perfect match to what will be a nice end of the day.

After I got off the phone with Rosie I called Mom at work.  I got some more of the specifics of Rosie’s problem then told her about how neat it was that my day had inadvertently made it so tonight would be as pleasant as could be for the four of us.  She laughed and agreed, because she intended to do a little grocery shopping this morning, but got called into work early!  What another nice coincidence.

Now, I sit here wondering…is this what they mean by riding the wave of life?  Is this what they mean when they say go with the flow?  Have I handed my life over to a higher power?  Sure, the events of today were mundane, but it is still nice to see how connected everything seems when you’re not stressed and just letting life play with you…instead of playing with life.  I am full of so much inspiration today; I will be surprised if I get any sleep tonight.  I may write until I can’t move anymore.  It is such a grand feeling.

Pet Peeved Turned Hobby

Over the years, I’ve had my video game prejudices.  Granted I grew up playing the original three Mario games, and watching my mom play the very first Zelda, but for years, especially during high school, I hated them.  For one thing, any time I was over a friend’s house, everyone would fight over who got to play Crash Bandicoot, or other such silliness, while I would’ve much rather done something as a group then waste time playing a game only a few could participate in at a time.  Then I dated a full out video game addict, and I quickly came to despise everything about them.

Slowly I’ve been adapting to a world with video games.  A year and a half ago, my boyfriend at the time got me into Final Fantasy XII, a game I could enjoy without doing very much.  It was the perfect relaxation, especially during finals when I just wanted to turn my brain off more than anything else.  During the break up with this guy, a friend of mine (my current boyfriend) got me into World of Warcraft, though we played on the free server, which I used to placate anyone who gave me The Look.  The Look let’s you know that you have crossed the socially acceptable limit of nerdy gaming.  I must say, though, that WoW was a lot of fun and opened my eyes to a whole new world of RPGs.

I’m now interested in a very old RPG called Legends of Kesmai.  I play with my boyfriend, though, and I don’t think I would enjoy it very much on my own.  But together, we fight monsters and gain experience, and it’s a great way to spend time together.  I like the game because it’s very simple graphically, due to its age, and it’s not difficult to play with just enough skill involved to make it tricky.  But what’s really great is that the sound effects, paired with the simple graphics, sends your imagination on a fantastic ride.

My major video game prejudice involves people becoming gamer zombies who don’t have a mind of their own, not to mention the fact that kids become fat and lazy when plunked in front of the game console.  There is a game system that has completely changed my view, though – the Wii.  I couldn’t understand the hype until I played Mario Kart with the wheel controllers.  First of all, you’re physically involved in the game because you have to actually steer, something I find totally cool.  Second, it involves many players and gets people interacting together.

Although as evidenced by this picture in which I’m attempting to stab Joey with a pen, the interaction can often turn to violence; or in this case, road rage.

Instead of encouraging zombie plague, the Wii gets the player involved.  I have Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix on Wii now, and my imagination gets to run wild around Hogwarts while I brandish my wand (wii-mote) in epic duels with Slytherins or while discovering secrets in the school’s many rooms.

Games also have a new way of bringing people together, especially recently, with games such as Guitar Hero and Rock Band.  When you have a group playing drums, guitar, bass, and someone on vocals, the score is dependent on everyone working together.  I played this weekend with a group of people, and everyone got a chance to participate and everyone was having a great time.  It’s a new generation of games, and I like satisfying my desire to play with a group of friends while provoking my imagination to get involved, rather than taking a backseat while my brain goes on autopilot.  It does that often enough during the day at work – kidding!

Seriously, though, let’s go play some games!

The Fuel | Volume I, Issue 6

Let’s get my update on quitting smoking out of the way, right away.  I did smoke yesterday.  Did a lot less of it than I usually do.  10 cigarettes as opposed to over a pack.  I have yet to have a cigarette today, and the goal is to make it longer into the day without having a cigarette and smoke fewer than yesterday.  As long as I meet these goals, I’m on the right track.  Now, what is this fuel I speak of.  I’m sure most of you know.

Coffee

Credit for the subject of this issue goes to Rhiannimated.  I wanted something less boring to write about.  At least I can tell funny stories about coffee in my life.  You see, I don’t drink it.  Never have, really.  I’ve tried to get addicted.  I’ve tried loading it up with milk and sugar, but that does help.  I love the smell, but I can’t really stand the taste.  When I do drink it, I drink it black, because if I’m drinking it, I’m drinking it to be awake…which is the only reason anyone should drink it in my humble opinion.

My sister, Rosanna, she’s addicted to coffee.  It’s impossible to talk to the woman before she’s had her first cup.  She’s either mute or mean until she gets that jolt of caffeinated energy.  I can identify with these feelings I guess.  I feel similarly to cigarettes.  Although, I’m not one to rush to my first cigarette.  It’s the best of the day, that first one, I always like to savor it.

Rhiannimated, I have noticed, has a slightly different approach to coffee.  She drinks it like I drink Pepsi.  I’m not sure if you could consider either of us addicted to caffiene.  I can live without it, and I do go through periods where I don’t drink soda.  One thing I’ve never known Rhiannon to do is rush to the coffee pot in the morning every morning.  There are days – and even weeks – when she does, but it’s not part of her normal routine I’d say.  If it is, I haven’t noticed.

What I have noticed is this blog isn’t really about coffee, but coffee’s roll in my life.  Which is all, I guess, anyone can expect.  Hey, at least I’m sticking to my goal and writing a blog everyday.  I want to be able to see how crazy I was five years from now.  Ah hah!  I think I found tomorrow’s subject.