Do you think writing your book changed your life?

This is a book I started a while ago. I shall post bits of it, and hopefully get some feedback. I don’t know if it changed my life though, and I am very insecure about my writing skills. I never think anything is good enough, as we all do, so be kind. 😉 The story develops better in my opinion, later, so keep coming back for the next parts. 🙂 Enjoy!

Our story begins as many stories do, with the birth of a child. This particular birth though, was of twins, and these particular twins, although seeming small and insignificant, were the start of a magnificent magical adventure.

The world on which this story takes place, and consequentially the world on which these twins were born used to be one full of magic. But over time and several wars, a lot of magic was lost because the wars killed of so many, magic and non-magic alike. With their numbers severely depleted the magical Fair Folk were forced to intermarry with humans, so magic blood was diluted and much power was lost.

Fair Folk had been all but erased from the world, their secrets hidden in secluded corners of the world. But for some reason, perhaps just a fluke of fate, these twins had more magic in them than had been in one person for a long time.

But because they had no one to protect them, this was more curse than blessing. Having more magic blood made them more susceptible to curses, because magic flowed easier through their bodies, good magic, and bad.

So as very young children they were cursed by the last of the Eternal Witches.

The Eternal Witches are just what they sound like. Witches that live forever. They are tremendously powerful and cannot die unless killed in a magical way. They are strictly female, and when they bore the children of human men they created the first Fair Folk, also called “Lilith’s children” because Lilith is the Eternal Witch’s goddess of humanity. They sent their children to live in the normal after they had tried to take the Fair Folk’s power. The Witches could absorb the power from other Witches if they incapacitated them and so they tried the same thing on the Fair Folk. But the Fair Folk’s magic was fatal to them, being more potent, a mix of heavenly and earthly power. So they sent them away to live as normal humans, hoping they would die out without knowing how to use their power. But the Fair Folk unlocked even more secrets and had children with humans, which made another group of Fair Folk that only used earthly power. The Witches saw opportunity for more power. By stealing power from these earth-powered Fair Folk they became as powerful as the original Fair Folk and could steal their power as well.

The Fair Folk went to war against their ancestors, overpowered them by sheer weight of numbers, and all the witches were banished; all but two, Marisen and Selina, two of the most powerful Witches who had aided the Fair Folk in their war on the Witches.

In the battles that followed, Marisen and Selina were killed off along with most of the rest of the witches, but they long stood as a symbol of power and unity among the Fair Folk.

Over the years the battling started to die out and magic started to dissipate, retreating into dusty library corners and hard to reach caves, so by the time these extraordinary twins were born, only one Witch remained.

When the celebration rang across the kingdom, across the world, that two girls had been born to the King, twin girls by the names of Marisen and Selina, the solitary witch, Morgitha, grew angry.

How dare they?! She thought. How dare they name their filthy brats after my traitorous sisters? She killed the messenger who had brought the news. She killed the bird that flew past the window. She wanted to kill the princesses and the king and the queen and their cat!

But no, Morgitha thought, I would have to leave my strong hold for that. I can curse them just fine from right here. Curse them to a life of confusion and misery until the day I can borrow their magic and make myself powerful enough to rule the world again as we did long ago….

It was a warm summer night and the sun and the moon both glimmered in the sky.

The witch muttered the curse, closed her eyes, and felt her power soar over the earth, over the sea, through the kingdom, and into the cradle of the sleeping twin girls, identical except for their eyes, one with silver, the other gold.

From that moment on, the sun and the moon were never again seen together in the sky.

Title Borrowed From: Bertram’s Blog

Ode to Retrospect

You can’t force poetry. It doesn’t fall from the sky. An it definitely can’t be written in class when everyone is shouting about sports and smoothies.

I hate this exercise. The teacher (sub in this case) tells everyone to write a poem, and everyone punches out 8 or 10 lines about Starbucks. Or shoes. Or butterflies.

Poetry is either ridiculous or a direct window to your soul. No, I would not like to share that with the class.

These are the titles that I am hearing in class – “Ode to Gatorade”. “Ode to Jamba Juice”. “Ode to Retrospect”. Well, that last one could be good, depending on what’s written. And from what the boy shared with me – it wasn’t.

And also, why odes??? Such a lame idea.. Something important to you. I don’t want to share with the class what is most important to me.

What do we learn from writing odes? It’s just a chance for the jock to write something “hilarious” and think they are cool, and for the rest of us to humiliate ourselves.

And I hate rhyming.

New Life

So this post is redundant because I just posted, but really I wrote that last little story a week ago, I just needed to type it up and load the picture, and as I left my laptop at work accidentally, that had to wait a bit. But I really wanted to talk about this. My mother and I recently had a very good talk about life.. and I just wanted to share some of the things that I learned from her and from thinking.

First – what happened this most recent Thursday:

My boyfriend (best friend, soul mate, the most perfect person in the universe) just recently asked me to prom.

If you cant read it, it says: "Mikela, Prom?"
My dog is sitting on the question mark.

Which was SO adorable. We get practically NO snow here, and this was a surprise snow day on the Thursday before spring break. We did have to go back to school on Friday, which was actually good, because I got to show of this.

What was originally sitting in the question mark! In it's box of course. 🙂

It is so beautiful and I was (am) so happy!

Now, I know this sounds like every other teenager on the planet, but – love is possible even as young as I am. Don’t assume that because of age our feelings are inconsequential and wont last. All love should be given the benefit of the doubt. Prejudice about age is the same kind of prejudice for interracial love and same gender love. I know a lot of high school relationships don’t last, but just because yours might have not, doesn’t mean that two people who fell in love in high school cannot be happily in love for the rest of their lives. If we gave people the benefit of the doubt more often then we could be a lot more supportive of each other.

Now obviously I am posting this because of some prejudice I am experiencing, from some people very close to me.

On the other hand, teenagers, remember how hard it is for your parents to let you go. Its confusing and difficult, especially when they realize that you aren’t a child anymore, they hold on even tighter. Letting go isn’t easy for anyone. And that is essentially what parents have to do when you grow and move away from them. They have to let you become your own person, and then you both have to find new identities. You are no longer so much parent and child, but individual people.

Growing up is terrifying and thrilling at the same time.. But I have realized that its best done in moderation. I don’t want to alienate my parents by instantly growing up, and I couldn’t handle it anyways. I still rely on them for most things. But – I am 16. I have a job, and a boyfriend, and a life just waiting to be lived. I can’t wait to get to it, but I cant help wanting to delay it just a bit. Being a child is comforting. No one judges you for crying, for wanting your daddy to hug you, for not being able to go somewhere because your mom said so.

There is a certain magic about being a teenager. You get to be a child and yet grown up at the same time. It really is a wonderful age. You can still be immature and you don’t have to pay rent. You don’t need to do taxes, or buy groceries. You can spend your money on clothes and coffee. You can make mistakes and it wont destroy your life.

So to all the teenagers out there – don’t rush to grow up. And to all the parents – don’t hold back your children (too much 😉 ), because then they will rush away from you.

Life is always about happy mediums, as I said before in my post What I Learned This Week, and our job as families is to find it. There is nothing more important than being loved – as cheesy as it may sound. And anyone who reads this – please please take that away. Never push away your family or friends.

I am lucky to be loved so much and I know it. I will never let anyone I love go.

I just wish everyone knew how much they really are loved and appreciated it.

From the lyrics of Big Yellow Taxi: “Don’t it always seem to go, that you don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone?”

Title Borrowed from: Blog of Adventure

Cristo de Cueva

*Disclaimer: I have no idea what Cristo de Cueva means, I did not read the post associated with this title. I just wanted to write something fictional, and this just made me think Lena from the sisterhood of the traveling pants, so that’s the general inspiration for this post, plus a glorified version of my summer, plus a beach trip I took this weekend. So it’s not very focused, but I think it paints a good picture..

I still have mud streaks on my calves from walking up here this morning alone, and I had been even wearing shoes that time. I try to nonchalantly scrape some of the dried mid off on a bush, but I just manage to catch my toes on a root and fall to the ground, landing heavily on my forearms.

“Oh! Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. Let’s get going or we are going to miss it!”

I push myself up, pick up my sandals, and continue walking up the dusty path, brushing sand from my arms.

We continue up the path and I start to hurry, seeing the sun lowering in the sky.

“Just put your feet where I put mine.” I say, and start to climb.

Maybe climb is too harsh a word. The hill is slanted upwards of course, otherwise it wouldn’t be a hill. But people like us have been coming up here since the dawn of time. At first glance it looks like an insurmountable mass of mottled roots and dirt. But if you know the path, it suddenly unscrambles itself and you see a beautiful cliff side slanting up into the sky, and cutting the sun in half in a neat little line.

I step in the first little packed hold and the dirt is warm from a day in the sun. I pretend as if the warmth is reallf from the hundreds or thousands of people who have climbed this hill for the sole point and pleasure of watching the beuty of the sun setting into the ocean.

I am getting wrapped up in myself, I think. I have forgotten the terrifying mission that I have somehow gotten myself into, one that is just as old and clicheed as the walk up this hill. I turn around.

“How are you doing?” I ask.

“Fine.. I’m just a little lost on how you got up there so fast!”

I seeter with my toes gripping a root, smooth from a million footsteps. I grin. “Hurry up silly!” I shout again, and start up the hill, slower this time.

I land on the last dirt step and haul myself over a little ridge. I keep my back to the horizon and look over the ridge at the poor boy I have convinced to follow me to my “secret” spot.

“Need help?”

“No…” He grunts.

“Grab onto the root. Right there, above your head. It will hold, trust me! And step on that rock and pull yourself up and over.” I grab onto his arm and help him up. “Sorry,” I say.

He smiles. “No, it’s okay!” He takes my shoulders and turns me around. “Look at the view. Its worth it.”

The sun is so bright it almost seems like a dark spot in the sky.

I sit on the edge and look down between my feet. The surf churns and turns white when it hits the rocks.

The view down a cliff at the Oregon coast.

It looks cold and seems a million miles away… Up here the breeze is nice and warm. The earth is warm, and the boy with me is warm. The sun finally hits the ocean and seems to fracture into a million pieces and the sky turns a brilliant shade of orange and purple. I take a deep breath and smell the ocean.

“In every girl’s life; there’s a boy she’ll never forget, and a summer where it all began.”

Title Borrowed From: El Bueno, El Feo, y El Malo

What I Learned This Week…

I’ll be the first to say that I haven’t had heaps of life experience. There are many bloggers that are middle aged plus, sharing their life experiences with the world. Giving their opinions and hoping to help others live their lives better, with humor, advice, and knowledge.  At 16 years of age, I can’t lend my experienced and wisdom to the the younger generation, because I am the younger generation.

But – I do have my own type of wisdom, sort of a beginners luck type of thing. Life – whatever it may bring, is happening to me now. Everything I think about is current, I am at the beginning of everything, and am just barely starting to figure things out.

That is why this title is especially applicable. I could talk about basically anything and everything with “What I Learned This Week.” I could, but I want to talk about people.

Optimist, pessimist, realist. You can’t really generalize the human population besides calling us “the human population”, but I think that everyone fits somewhere on this scale. There are obvious problems with all three of these extremes. Too optimistic and you aren’t realistic enough to succeed. Too pessimistic and you are too negative to enjoy life. Too realistic and you won’t be able to hope and dream.

To me it seems that where you are on this ↓ venn diagram influences what happens to you. That whole golden rule; treat others how you wish to be treated. Likewise, your attitude on life determines what happens to you.

Today in orchestra our conductor kept telling us to visualize the note before we played it. He talked about how he always saw a high G as a diamond, and our section leader said she saw it as a shining green bubble. But for me, I just visualized myself playing perfectly and then I did.

I think I am mostly an optimist, and I know I can be very unrealistic at times, and there are definitely times where I feel like nothing will ever be okay. But I do have hopes and dreams, many. And I think about them every day, almost willing them into existence. That’s how I know they are going to happen, because I believe they will, and am willing to make them happen.

My goals are realistic of course, if not a bit ordinary. A home, a quiet secure life, and a family. I don’t need to be extraordinary, though sometimes it scares me that I might not make a difference.. I think that scares us all.

There is also another philosophy of sorts, borrowed from someone very important to me, that makes sense. If you expect the worst, then anything that happens will just be better. In his own words, “If you expect the worst and it can only get better, so in the meantime take it all in knowing that it’s all downhill regardless of where you are or where you started.” Which does make sense, but I can’t help but get my hopes up for everything and get ridiculously excited for things, and then end up getting crushed sometimes.. But I would rather be ridiculous than cautious anyways.

I know there are people that feel like the world is out to get them and that they got dealt the worst hand possible and they will never be able to make something of themselves. I never want to tell anyone how to live their lives, and I know not many will actually read this, but what happens to you, depends on your attitude. It really is that simple. Opportunity helps definitely, but you can always make things better – and worse.

I didn’t really come into this post with a major point to make, just an idea of optimism, pessimism, and a desire to use a venn diagram. I have a lot of things to say, and no particular order in which to say them. I don’t believe in rough drafts, and I write stream of conscious, but that is better for these sorts of posts any who. My brain is so full of ideas and things to share and try to explain, because as I explain things I am filled with a feeling of assurance, like maybe I do have opinions and what I have to say might be worth something. Following that I leave you with a Chinese proverb:

You really do learn something best when you teach it to someone else.

Title Borrowed From: The Life of Jamie

Fifty Shades of Grey

There is something beautiful about grey. Almost all my clothes are some shade of it. I love black and white photos, they seem mysterious and classic. But they aren’t really “black and white”, they are shades of grey, otherwise there would be no definition.

I have fallen in love. He is smart, kind, funny, amazing, and perfect for me in every way. We say things at the same time. We love the same things and love the same way.

He tells me that he sees the world in black and white, right and wrong. I see it in shades of grey. I see good and bad as well, in everything, but for me they can’t be separated, they run together like paint and create, not fifty, but thousands of shades of grey.

In my short time on this earth, I have learned more about life and myself with him than I ever did before I met him. He is so certain about who he is and how he is, that it makes me want to know who I am in order to more understand him.

Not only does he love me, but he encourages me, unintentionally, to be a better person. Because I know him so well, I can see things through his eyes and understand a whole different way to think and understand, if not the exact same way to be.

 

Title Borrowed From: Life in Boomer Lane

The Need for Seed

Starting a blog. This is probably one of the most difficult things in the world, right up there with telling a boy you like them in middle school and making those no-bake cookies taste right.

Whilst reading “101+ Killer Blog Posts” I came upon the word “niche” over 30 times. Okay, what I need was a niche, a topic, a purpose, just one good starting idea. I need a seed. Time will tell if what I write is “Just Another WordPress.com Site”, or something worth reading and sharing.

The name of my blog, “The Title Borrower”, means just that. This is my seed: to go to a blog, (one I have subscribed to, something freshly pressed, or a commenter’s blog from one of the aforementioned), and pick a post. I will steal borrow their title and write on it. We’ll see how it goes. I might write a quick story or part of one, a poem, a real life occurrence, but connect it to the title. That way I’m not just floating in the giant bay of ideas that swim out there.

I hope now that you are at least intrigued and might consider revisiting this blog at a later date, to give a new blogger an audience to try her hand at writing. Here it goes…

Title Borrowed From: The Doodle House