Thursday, August 4, 2011

The Next Step

That whole 1000 words a day thing kind of fell apart there. It was partially (mostly)(all) my fault, as I started it the day before I had rugby practice after work, and then a rugby tournament that weekend, leaving very little time for writing. Not that I really write when I have time anyways, I usually convince myself to do something else with my time, but ah well. It is what it is.

Speaking of, my old high school, Randolph Union High School (R U High?) now has a pretty sweet sign out front, with a sign that proclaims 'It is what it is'. I thought that was kind of cool, but also depressing maybe? I mean, look at it. RUHS "It is what it is". That's not exactly an inspiring message right there. On another note, why the hell didn't we have a sign when we were there? Goddamn kids get everything these days.

So I'm going to boston. For an indeterminate amount of time. The amount of time depends on if I find a job or I run out of money. Maybe it's a dumb idea, but I'm feeling pretty good about it. For awhile, I've felt like I've been in limbo. Purgatory. Stuck in between graduating college and finding a 'real' job. Living at home working for my dad, I feel like I'm not going anywhere. I ask myself, how do I get to the next stage?  Where's that final boss that I beat and gets me into the next level? Well, I guess this is the final boss. Moving to a new place without employment and living off what I've saved (not alot). Will I defeat the unemployment monster or be forced to move back home, back into limbo, back to being stuck in between again. We will see. Unfortunately, instead of a sword and shield, I have a resume and cover letter. I think killing a dragon would be easier.

I saw Harry Potter. It was good. It always is. It's that kind of 'good' where it doesn't even matter how good the movie is, you're seeing characters you've grown up with, characters you've watched grow up, characters you care about facing evil bad guys with magic and shit. You can't not like that sort of thing, at least, not if you grew up reading Harry Potter like I did.

In other news, Tyra Banks is writing a three part novel series called Modelland, a fantasy set in a world where girls attempt to get into a magical modelling academy, and the story is about four girls who find 'smizes' and get into the school even though they're not supposed to. I couldn't make this shit up. I'm sure it will sell hundreds of thousands of copies. Teeny bopper girls everywhere will eat that shit up and ask for more. Makes me feel kind of depressed about writing, but, as RUHS says, 'it is what it is.'

I think I've had three or four coffees this morning. That might be one or two too many. Oh well. Such is life.

I wrote a thing that one day that I actually did write 1000 words. I guess it would be called a short short or something silly like that. I might as well put it up here.

The God's Favor

Steel sang upon steel in the middle of the courtyard, and the innocent man knew he was going to die. The two combatants backed off a moment, catching their breath. The innocent man looked scared, bloody stains covering the majority of his meager leather clothing. The other man faced him, half plate covering his chest and shoulders, chain mail underneath, large longsword in hand. The armored man wore no expression other than determination. He was there to judge, condemn, and grant justice, and in a trial by combat, there is only one punishment.

They had been fighting for fifteen minutes as the crowd cheered on around them. They were excited. This melee was lasting longer than most. They grew louder, calling for blood, knowing they would get it soon.

“I am innocent!” The innocent man called out, exasperated. “The Gods favor me!”

“Then what’s takin’ ‘em so long?” A man from the crowd called out. Laughter followed.

“Maybe they like to be dramatic!” Another responded, followed by more laughs.

The other man waited no longer, charging forward and swinging hard. The innocent man parried once, twice, a third time, but everyone could see he was getting tired and losing more blood all the time.

It didn’t last much longer. His sword was knocked out of his hand, and then the other sword was thrust into his chest, the point emerging between his shoulder blades. He stayed standing until the other man put a foot in his chest and pushed, unsheathing the sword from the flesh.

The crowd clapped and cheered. The man who lived wiped his sword off with the shirt of the dead man, sheathed it, and walked away. The crowd began parting as guards hurriedly went to take care of the corpse.

One child, sitting upon his father’s shoulders had a look of confusion upon his face. “The man was innocent. He should’ve had the Gods’ favor. He should’ve won.”

It was not his father who answered but an old man with but a few strands of white hair upon his head, standing next to him. He looked at the child with a grim smile. “It is not the innocent the Gods favor, child, it is the strong.”

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