Yeah, I'm movin' on, but that's the way it goes.

Listening To: Liar Liar by NeverShoutNever
Feeling: Excitement about the POOAL

I know I had that title of a recent post already, but the blog is moving, and I thought it would be appropriate to have that as the title. I put on this song specifically so I could have that as the title.

The blog has moved to
http://hobomerz.blogspot.com/

I'm basically just starting over. I see all my immaturity here and also a lot of memories I don't want to have; and anyone who wants to Follow me on here should Follow The Anatomy of a Pseudo-Hobo blog, which will soon have it's first post. I just have this doodle I want to do with the first post, which is why it isn't posted yet. I'll be better about posting and try not to be so boring and everything.

And so, thank you for all the years, guys.

The natural life; you're born, you die.

Listening To: Natural Life by Breaking Benjamin
Feeling: The opposite of OPA!. Which must mean something terrible.

Holy granola, my organs hurt. Don't ask my why my organs hurt. I just know they do. Mom tells me I must've slept wrong, but it feels like an alien ripped open my stomach while I was sleeping and pounded my organs because he was bored, then went back home. That's how bad they feel. Oh, and my spine hurts. My ribs hurt. My eyeballs hurt. He probably beat those, too.

Though this post was not supposed to be about everything that was currently causing me pain, it seems that's the way it started off. Oh well. Let's go ahead and get to the topics at hand here, shall we?

I was just contemplating on the fact that I am a person who likes to remember "the good times," an awful lot. I'll just look over and dad and be like,

Me: Dad, do you remember that time?

Dad: *sighs dramatically because he knows what's coming* No, I remember no such time. I don't remember any of the times.

Me: Oh, sure you do. It was that one time when me and you and mom went to the park and we played with those velcro pads and the baseballs that stuck to them because I can't play any real sports, but then I thought I could play real sports so I said, "Let's play soccer!" And then we started to play makeshift soccer but you kicked the ball pretty hard and it flew up into my face and hit me in the nose and I had a bloody nose and I was all upset?

Dad: I vaguely recall.

Me: Good times. 8D Oh, wait, no, I thought you had broken my nose and I was going to be horribly ugly for the rest of my life D8< Bad times, bad times!

And this is how these things go with us. I'm always remembering that one time, and half the time my parental units don't even know what I'm talking about. They are highly convinced that I've made up half of my childhood with false memories and the other half are real but I don't remember those as much because they aren't as exciting for me as the false ones. Though I am absolutely positive they're just old and don't remember the finer points of my upbringing.

I, however, remember all of the finer points of my upbringing. Like how when I was younger I saw those Leprechaun movies and I was highly convinced that that Leprechaun was hiding under my bed, and someone who hated me told him I had his gold and I'm like "Frakk no, I don't have your gold" but he still thought so anyway, and if I dangled a leg or arm over the side of my bed he would claw the crap out of me and drag me under the bed and murder me. To this day I'm still in the habit of attempting to keep my limbs firmly on the bed; never mind that underneath my bed is so much crap there would be no place for the Leprechaun to hide, unless he could shrink himself.

And I wouldn't be surprised.

A more recent memory, though, is that dad has this box thing. It makes noise like it's some huge frakking dog but really it's just a speaker, and he put it in my bathroom as I was passing by. It has a motion sensor. And I'm all ladi-da-dee-isn't-life-super-special-awesome with my iPod in my hand and a dog in the other and this thing goes off. I scream, and I don't even know what I scream, but I scream, drop my iPod and set dog down as gently as a freaked out person an and run. Run like I am in a freaking MARATHON, because I am a survivor and I was highly convinced there was a demon in my bathroom.

I ran directly into dad, who was hunching down in the hallway to witness this reaction -- AT NIGHT, MIND YOU -- so I thought the demon was double-teaming me with another demon before I realized it was dad, who was LOL, ROFL, LMAO, OMGWTFBBQ'ing in the hallway. I basically tried to scrabble over him and told him to save me and basically told him to be eaten by the demon who was after my poor, pure soul. Before I figured out everything was a joke.

The moral of the story is: be careful if you have as big as an imagination as I do.

God, help me I've come undone out of the light of the sun.

Listening To: Give Me A Sign by Breaking Benjamin
Feeling: Tired.

Yeah, I'm probably not going to be posting the lyrics with the song title and whatnot anymore. It's not like it's a big pain in the bum for me or anything, but there just really isn't any point to it except that I haven't seen someone do that. Though I will keep using lyrics as post titles. Alright, let's go ahead and get to an official post here so Flash can read it, maybe comment, and then we can all go back to our normal lives.

First of all, the suminagashi class was not exactly as I expected. Just picture me at the library with my father, whom I forced to take the class with me as some sort of bonding exercise, and I'm waiting for the class to begin because the woman is of course late, by over fifteen minutes. At this point, my spirits are not dampened because, hello, I'm in a library. A big building full of books. How can someone like me not be on cloud nine in the presence of books?

The point is, I spent the fifteen minutes plus by getting some books. Once she finally does arrive and the class is called to session, I promptly realize this day is going to be filled, absolutely filled, with WTFery. As the class contains myself and my slightly disgruntled father, two young boys who reek of mac n' cheese and ugly boy smells and their mother who is trying to be sexy sitting in the corner wearing short-shorts but really, she's way too old for those and her thighs were not what I wanted to see, and two pseudo-artistic teenagers who obviously thought they were all that. One of them was wearing a beret.

Yeah. A beret.

So the teacher comes in and instead of being deep and artistic like I imagined her, she's Miss Happy Rainbow Sunshine Unicorn, and basically treats us like we're in preschool. Which, judging by the immaturity of the two young boys next to me, I'm not surprised. It is deadpan horrible for the entire duration of her explanation about suminagashi and Japan, of which I already knew about everything she said and all the materials.

Dad ended up with a really cool one that looked like a ying-yang of skulls, and I ended up with three that just sort of looked nice. Maybe I'll post pictures eventually, but I seriously doubted it. Basically, I like the art form and everything, but the woman was severely unprepared, severely condescending, and the supplies had holes in them or the brush tips would come off randomly. I still looked like an idiot hunching over a tinfoil pan that looks like its been used a hundred times before, flicking paint and ink into the water.

My faith in the calligraphy class is dwindled. Because the suminagashi class said -- apparently -- five and up. And the calligraphy class says all ages. You would absolutely not think this, due to the fact that calligraphy is supposed to be slow and precise and careful, and you don't want a toddler that eats toenail clippings in there messing about with paper and spilling ink all over everyone while screaming like a banshee.

Pray for me.

As for other news in my life, I apparently now have a pool. A very, very large above-ground pool. I'm all excited for it and everything because it's only about four feet deep, so I won't drown (Yes, I still cannot swim. So sue me). Mom's getting all excited by getting us these fancy towels with flip-flops printed on them, getting me goggles for apparent underwater adventure, those little raft things you lay on and sip your virgin margarita on, and a pool cover. And probably a new two-piece bathing suit for me. Which brings me to the conclusion that I'm glad this pool is, of course, in the backyard, and away from anyone seeing me flailing around like an idiot, LOL'ing and being this extremely happy version of myself that rarely comes out.

I also finished the pink sketchbook. I haven't started in on the black one yet, but I'm probably going to do that today. I was all accomplished and, "Look, mom! Look, dad! I finished my sketchbook!" and they were all, "That's nice, dear" before going back along their daily business. I take it that finishing the sketchbook and starting a new one means a lot more to me than to everyone else...

If you trust your neighbors, they'd never suspect what you're like.

Listening To: Your Friends Are Gone by Circa Survive
Feeling: Like playing a children's card game.

"...Everything hidden is suddenly exposed
Nobody wants to hear another
Story about how you couldn't write right
It climbs in slowly behind
No one has to know
Playback, delete, and rewind
Each one is louder than the one before
And the people you care for
At ten times the expense
Of all that you've spent..."

I've decided that I might try to post a little Letters thing every week on Saturday, which will basically just be me ranting about the things that have bothered me all week. I've always wanted to sort of do a weekly thing like that, and I also wanted to do a rant-like thing. I've seen other bloggers do things like that, so I thought I might as well do it, too, and try to keep up with it. So, enjoy my rant, I suppose? I usually don't get comments, so I really don't know if I'm being boring or exciting. We'll just have to see.

Oh, at the end, I guess I'll post something good that made me happy this week.

5/29/10, Letters no.1
Dear Sun,
Sun, if you could not scorch me everytime I walk outdoors, that would be nice. Yes, I know I tan easily and rarely burn. Yes, I know I am a ghastly pale. I like it this way, and if you could stop trying to tan the crap out of me everytime I step outside for 5.6 seconds because you know it'll be another two weeks before something forces me back into the "great" *air quotes* outdoors, that would be excellent.

Dear Novel I'm Currently Writing,
I would really love if you could be easier to write. I have -- basically -- the whole plot floating around in my mind and on random bits of paper and in notebooks, but nevertheless, I am never confident while I'm writing you. I worry that the story is moving too fast, I'm not describing things well, the characters aren't three-dimensional enough, that there's too many characters in general, etc. Basically, I have no faith in myself or any scraps of skills I may have at this point. I am in a constant state of worry because of this, so yeah.

Dear Non-Existant Confidence,
It would be just superb if you, Confidence, would show up and take over once in awhile. I don't need to be over-confident, but it would be nice to feel good about the novel or myself for once. News flash for everyone involved: guys don't find self-conscious girls cute. Not that I'm even thinking about going after a guy, or that I even like a certain one (At this point, I don't), but still. You know. I should be ready when it happens, right?

Dear Art Skills,
I know I'm asking for a lot here, but can I please be able to draw hands? And arms? And legs? And feet?
...
And realism?
I just rocked the boat, didn't I?

Dear Gracie's hair,
I know you're my dog's hair and all and you probably have an ego just like she does, but you tangle so much. I have to brush you all the time, and I'm getting sick of it. Can't you stay untangled for at least a day?
It's so much easier with the pugs' short hair. Their grooming needs are practically non-existant.

And finally, the happy thing. It's optional to read, of course, like everything else.

Dear God,
Thanks for always being there for me, through the tears, the doubts, the rants, the confusion, the fear. You know I'm always a constant jumble of nerves and fear, and that I'm constantly on the cusp of letting them consume me. Still, there's always a line to cross before I get that far, and Your hands on my shoulders gently pull me away before I reach that line.
I love You. Even if I can't be honest with myself, I can be honest with You.
Thanks for everything, Father.

In a city of fools, I was careful and cool, but they tore me apart like a hurricane.

Listening To: Therapy by All Time Low
Feeling: Y'know; the usual.

"...My ship went down in a sea of sound
When I woke up alone, I had everything
A handful of moments, I wished I could change
And a tongue like a nightmare, that cut like a blade
In a city of fools, I was careful and cool
But they tore me apart like a hurricane
A handful of moments, I wished I could change
But I was carried away..."

There still isn't much going on here. Just a lot of chores, a lot of sketching, some writing, and some reading. That's basically the only things going on right now, and pretty much the only thing that ever is. Except tomorrow I'm going to a suminagashi class tomorrow, and then sometime in June I'm going to a Chinese calligraphy class -- which, if you know me, will have me bouncing off the walls with happiness. I absolutely adore the Asian culture, language, mythology, whatever. And I really hate it when someone tells me that my passion for the culture will fade, or I'm just like every other teen on the Internet who loves Japan and Japan period.

But since I'm interested in all the Asian cultures, examples, Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Filipino, etc. and am actually serious about learning mainly the Japanese language and learning about those cultures. I like knowing about all sorts of languages and cultures, though, but my favorite is probably Asian cultures. I don't know why. Though, since Flash lives in Latvia, I'm actually starting to learn a bit about their culture, as well.

I was going to probably write a whole paragraph up on suminagashi and one on the Chinese calligraphy, but if you want to know more about it you can learn about the suminagashi here and the Chinese calligraphy here. I think it's good to have something that you're passionate about in life, whether it be a culture or something like that, and also good to know what you want to do in life and to have hobbies. Makes your life more full, I suppose; though I'm getting a bit off-topic and much too optimistic...Once again, if you know me, I am one of the most pessimistic people you will meet. Yet, still a hopeless romantic at the same time.

Though I'm trying to kick that. Nothing good will ever come of looking at boys as if they are knights in shining armor, when I know full well and personally well that they are not. Sure, they might end up loving you in the end, but when they first see you, they are most likely -- and I'm talking 99.9% likely -- thinking about smexing you up. Do not delude yourself; this is what they're thinking. They don't see what a pretty brain you have. They are looking at your lady lumps and humps, so now you know.

I have new characters, my lovelies. I probably need to get rid of some because I have so many and only about three are fully developed -- Ric, Vic, and Mercedes -- but I still keep churning them out like nobody's business. I have a German vampire prince, Albrecht Fuerst. He's in the Ravenblood coven but kept his last name rather than changing it. Diahann Dupont and Aubin Blanc, who are both French and got divorced. It's a bit complicated, but their kids are Amadour and Aceline. I think Aceline is seventeen and Amadour is nineteen, two years apart just like Jersey and Anthony.

I'll blog again soon...I might post about how that class goes tomorrow.

Yeah, I'm moving on, but that's the way it goes.

Listening To: Liar Liar by NeverShoutNever
Feeling: Excited

"...Don’t pull that s**t again
For me now, but I'm building up
I can see that I've had enough of you
I'm finally through
And all I see in you
Is another mistake right over my shoulder
Now I see who you are..."

There's been a huge lack of updates lately, hasn't there? I wanted to just post a little something so none of my Followers would think I was going on another one of my notorious hiatuses. I've been had a lack of real topic to write about here, and the reason for that is probably because of my book. I think I mentioned I was working on it quite awhile ago, but I scrapped what I had wrote and I started over...what, yesterday, I think? And so, I have six-thousand-and-some words now, and I think it's going good.

I've also been making new characters even though I already have an abundance of them, and I've been doodling a lot. My little pink sketchbook is almost completely filled now. ♥ For some reason, though, I feel really accomplished that I've drawn enough to fill up a sketchbook. I think I only started doodling in it, what, a couple months ago? I really can't say because I don't remember.

I'm also proud because I'm one of those people who can be fickle at times, get bored easily, and get discouraged easily. But I've been taking the criticism like a woMAN (Because I am a girl, and that's how we take critique), and I know that most of the people who critique me are trying to help me; not offend me. I remember when I used to get offending if someone didn't like my art. Well, when I look at my way older art, I offend myself with what I say about it.

Mom and dad already got me a new fancy black sketchbook. I was trying to hold off on drawing in it because they're going to buy my something that's supposed to stop the charcoal and pencils, et cetera , from rubbing off on the opposite page. But since I've almost filled the pink one, I probably won' t wait. I like to doodle at least one thing a day in order to improve my skills and keep techniques I've learned fresh in my mind. It's very helpful, even if I just doodle something easy or small.

As for those new characters I previously mentioned, I think the new ones I have since I last blogposted are...Jersey Wallace, Asherd Wallace, Anthony Luna, Artery, Seth, and Thaddeus Beret. Oh, and maybe Skyline. Not sure if I'll keep her or not.

Now. Jersey is in the book, replacing Jamie who was in the old one that I erased (If you're wondering who replaced Julius, that would be Vic. So now the Five are Mercedes, Labyrinth, Vic, Ric, and Jersey), and Asherd who is her brother and is briefly in the book but nothing important and I must stress he is not one of the Five. Anthony is Mercedes's current boy-toy, and is also briefly in the book, but is not one of the Five, either. Artery and Seth are two of a new race I am developing called Plaguechildren, and they are both in the Mafia which is getting a comeback in this novel, but not a story of it's own yet. Thaddeus is just a human who probably could be compared -- hair-wise -- to a blonde Weird Al. And Skyline is a flirtatious pink-haired Crow, though I'm not sure if I'm keeping her. I just really need to make new Crows...

I guess that ends this update. Hope you all enjoy the weekend.

'Cause all you people are vampires.

Listening To: Perhaps Vampires Is A Bit Strong But... by Arctic Monkeys
Feeling: Sickly

"...Well I ain't got no dollar signs in my eyes
That might be a surprise but it's true
That I'm not like you and I don't want your advice
Or your praise or to move in the ways you do
And I never will
Cause all you people are vampires
And all your stories are stale
And though you pretend to stand by us
I know you're certain we'll fail.."

Well, let's just say that last night was not a good night for me. Which explains the "sickly" part of the Feeling section in this post. I won't get into depth about it, but I will say it involves a bad stomach ache that kept me up the better part of the night. Oh, well; at least I ended up getting some sleep in the end. I still was up for awhile, just messing around with my music, looking at doodles, and randomly reading some Dear John, even though I should just finish the book I started -- Jane Eyre -- I don't know. I tend to go through phases where I start on another book before I finish another, and Jane isn't a particularly huge book -- at least, I don't think so.

Yes, don't expect any serious quality to this post. I'm pretty sure it's just not going to happen.

I've been thinking lately that I need to compile a list of my characters. I sort of want to know how many I have, and get rid of the useless ones. It's pretty easy for me to get rid of a character I haven't used so much, or to get rid of an un-needed character in a short story or book. It's never been that hard. It's odd, considering how in real life I could never even hurt a fly and I'm a weaker person in general.

Speaking of those characters, though, my twins Ric and Vic are officially shapeshifters. I think I might've said once how I imagined them human and they always will be, but as you might know, I tend towards the indecisive side. Besides, Ric was a shapeshifter the first time I ever roleplayed him with Flash. I might as well tell you what I came up with for this version of shapeshifting, but it's really basic and not specific. It's nothing like Flash's shifters, who have an incredible amount of thought put into them, their world, and their races. That whole thing is so complicated that I barely understand it, and I probably know next to nothing about them compared to what is all in her mind.

Shifters seem normal up until the very first time they shift. Whatever age that is, they will become immortal and freeze in that age after the first shift. If they were born a shapeshifter, they can still die and are a mortal until the first shift (Let's call is TFS, shall we?). This can happen at any age, but commonly between the ages of 13-24. A pretty wide age-gap, right? The genes of the shifters goes for a younger age naturally.

Twins - look-a-like or not - always will shift the first time at the same time. After that, they are free to shift separately.

Their form depends on the power, strength, and sometimes even personality and morals of the person. Since the forms vary so greatly, they don't run in packs like the Realm Gods would. They still sometimes form families or groups together because they feel more at ease with their kind.

Some are only carriers of the gene and never actually shift.

They do automatically know when another of their kind is near, as this instinct has developed in them over the years. However, someone who has been a shifter longer and is, thus, older, will have a be able to sense their kind more easily than a shapeshifter who has -- for example -- just had TFS.

Their eyes tend to be vivid, and can be wild colors like red, orange, yellow, etc.

So, as you can see, it is basic and very loose. I never wanted to make some sort of super-form out of them, or something like that, and the main "breed" type thing that I am focusing on would be the Bloody Crow Creed. I would like to create a very complex world for them, and make them complex themselves, like Flash has done with her Realm Gods.

As for the reason these two are suddenly shifters, it's because of a roleplay Flash and are having. I wanted them to be immortal like her character Froze, and the kids Nora, Jesse, and Haley. It's a very complicated thing and it's more like a magical soap opera than just an everyday family RP, so you definitely don't want to hear about it.

Drama.