losing my passion


I don’t know why, but recently, I seem to have lost any and all passion for things I once loved to do. Even finishing The Duality of Mankind was laborious and met with anxiety instead of relief and fulfillment.

I don’t know whether it’s due to the crushing disappointment from rejection by a former Creative Writing teacher…

Or maybe it’s because of the soul-crushing assignment in Foods II of having to write an entire story about making jelly.

It could just be that discovering the darkest reaches of the internet has killed my brain and I need a detox.

On a side note, I had a dream last night. I was sitting down to lunch with a trusted friend and confidante- a boy with black hair and a pale complexion who was my age, although we were closer to what I would guess a twenty-year-old to be like instead of hormonal teenagers on the brink of freedom from parental control.

We were discussing the school’s newest anti-bullying technology over lunch. I was busy chomping away at a salad with thin slices of ham drenched in ranch, but I don’t remember in the slightest what he was eating. The same thing, I would presume. But the anti-bullying app- it was comprised of two sections. One reported the latest instances of bullying as they occurred in shorthand much like a police officer would use. The other one was sort of an “After School” anonymous chatting fiasco, but it was sane and didn’t require Facebook to login or authenticate, and it was centered around leaving messages of encouragement and hope for suicidal students.

At least, that was what it was designed for, because on that unfortunate day, it was flooded with students fretting over seeing a forearm-sized purple dragon flitting about the school, slipping in backpacks and nesting in lockers and sucking up water from other people’s waterbottles as they tramped down the hall. There was one girl that it seemed to hang around more often than others- a friend, maybe; she certainly didn’t seem bothered by it at all.

I quickly choked down my salad and left; it was an experimental restaurant, where sensors detected what you ate and you were automatically charged to your bank account when you left. By the time I arrived at the school to check it out, the dragon had been cornered in one of the shower stalls in the girl’s locker rooms.

In human form.

I knocked gently on the shower stall. Bashful, she shook her head and backed into the corner of the small porcelain space, body a blurry silhouette through the stall door.

“I’ll give you a few minutes to get changed,” I said, trying not to be confrontative. “I just want to talk to you about what’s been going on.”


She slowly pulled her clothes back on- where she got them from, I had no idea- and unlocked the shower stall and pushed it open. Only her head peeked out from the door.

She was a pretty young girl, about six or seven. Her eyes were a deep purple, her hair a slightly lighter version of the same shade, tangled and knotted into two rudimentary pigtails. My interface pinged- a little notification popped up in the corner of my vision, distracting me for a moment.

She had exactly forty-nine freckles, it said.


school-mandated poetry: day 2 / quatrain

“from a book I still haven’t finished writing yet”

Izana wandered into the lobby
and was surprised to see Vey’s face,
but her eyes were all sobby
and her fan spinning apace.

“What’s wrong, dear Vey- uh,
I didn’t think you the type to give a new OS a chance.
If I may- I quite like Fedora;
it’s like a party in my pants!”

Vey looked up, distressed,
and then sniffed and rubbed her nose.
“It’s Trisquel, actually, and this is just a hardware test.
But if it makes you happy, I’ll try something else, I suppose…”

slight delays

I’ll keep this short.

I’m postponing the release of Me Before You to New Year’s Day to give me time to relax and spend time with my family and work on The Duality of Mankind. While I’m eager to close out this chapter of my life and see what’s next in store for me beyond The Phobia Interim, I’ve had an extremely hard time finding the motivation to do much of anything, and I’m sorry.

If it’s any comfort, I am bringing A Shatter Down the Hall out of indefinite hiatus and will be working on heavy rewriting as soon as I’m done with TDOM.

Happy holidays, whatever you celebrate, and we’ll meet again soon.

summer vacation, day 1


It is now the first day of summer vacation, and yet I still feel like there is a weight on my shoulders- like it hasn’t yet sunk in that there isn’t a pop quiz in AP Lit ready to spring at me and ruin my grades further or that a few certain people at school no longer have the opportunity to startle and aggravate me for their own entertainment or that I won’t have to wake up in self-hating despair at six in the morning anymore.

Prairie Flower is in a week. That’s also when the seniors have their graduation ceremony, and also when I was supposed to perform with the rest of the band- but my band teacher said not to worry about making it up if I couldn’t go. That makes two pieces of music I guess I’ll have to remember to return on the first day of school.

If I survive that long. Which I probably will, but you never know. Maybe I’ll decide to go into journalism, get a job at a repair shop as a stepping stone into sysadmin-hood, and be coerced by a nihilist rogue into running away to a commune. And then I’ll have to explain to fully-grown adults that violence only antagonizes people, which will result in someone actively planning my assassination and my brother intervening to bring me and the ethereal man-child who followed me out of the commune to safety.

And then I’ll hide for a while before being killed anyway, which will almost trigger a war.

Sometimes I feel bad for Vey and the rewrite I’m forcing her to go through. And sometimes I reconsider my life decisions.

3/26/2017- more books, more problems

It has been so long since I last had the urge to post something, and yet here I am, typing away on a blank page.

I have been hard at work writing a new book called A Shatter Down The Hall– a sort of yelling at myself for past mistakes, to force myself to stop the constant cycle of wanderlust between simplification and decentralization. Do I want to automate everything so that I’ll spend more time actually working on what I enjoy and less time making the connections between all the facets of my online life work with each other? Or do I want to take the extra steps of spreading out my work among several different sites so that no one entity has control of my data at the cost of more time down the gutter in maintaining the flow of work?

The main problem I have while writing this book is the main character- she’s a little… flat. Vey doesn’t have very many defining characteristics, which fits the book’s theme- she’s dazed and gets her identity from losing herself inside of Virtuality, a hybrid of an ocular implant giving one a nonintrusive HUD and a Matrix-esque virtual reality video gaming platform which puts one in a simulated sleep and then manipulates dreams. She longs to reunite with her brother Velaire, who supposedly committed suicide several years prior but turns out is actually still alive and in hiding. And she loves to write, although she hits writer’s block quite often as a result of her addiction to Virtuality. But her indecision when it comes to fighting to return to the world she’s always known or submitting to the fate forced upon her mucks up the book and makes her a quite unlikable character.

In contrast, we’ve got Vio- a quite insolent man who enjoys reminding Vey that her only viable choice is to go with him to the village. Because Vey was present during the “terrorist” attack, Vey has connections to Vio, which makes her a potential target to the police. Vio barely restrains himself from forcing himself onto Vey, as she reminds him multiple times that she resents him, especially since following him through a convoluted journey is the only way she has a chance to see Velaire again. But halfway through the book, his role becomes quite diminished as the book focuses more on Vey’s development, and he doesn’t return in a major capacity until the climax.

Normally, if I were writing, this would be perfectly normal- the story writes itself, and I can’t force a character to be more than they design themselves to be. But there’s the issue of retaining the reader’s interest, and if they decide early on that the book is boring, then… there’s no recovering from being shelved, ignored, and forgotten.

As I write this, I’ve got twenty-two chapters written and am working on the twenty-third. But, as usual, there’s a thousand other projects calling for my undivided attention as well, voluntary or foisted upon me by the high school. And there are only so many hours in a day to sleep…

no recuerdo


It seems I’ve been forgetting a lot of things lately. Forgetting to edit Me Before You, which has been sitting in my cloud storage for a few months now. Forgetting to complete my French lessons on Memrise, making me lose a 25-day streak. Forgetting to play nice with the indolent and chatty girls at my table in health class, instead choosing to ignore them outright. Forgetting to maintain my Facebook meme page…

Pretty much procrastinating on every single one of my responsibilities, and I hate it.

But hey, I’ve got a new book I’m writing- no wait, writer’s block has already stricken that one as well. I changed the perspective from first to third person, which helped a bit, but the motivation still isn’t there.

Maybe it’ll come back with the snow.