Thursday, February 5, 2009

Its been such a long t-imeee.......

Hey, I'll let the pictures speak for themselves.


My joy cannot be described in words, but the sound goes kinda like "NEEAARRGAHHHFLUEOSFOURRAAAA!!!"

The world is a better place now.

Thursday, December 25, 2008

2008: A Texas Oddity

First, let me say that this blog post is dedicated to my Dad, the most avid reader of this blog and the man with the cattle prod that screams "WRITE, YOU FOOL!". Much love from me, and God bless us every one this merry Festivus.

As the title suggests, this uber-post is in regards to 2008. Ah, 2008. It was the year of the rat. In my favorite TokyoPop Shojo Manga (*mom's head explodes*) Fruit's Basket, the rat is named Yuki. I really don't like Yuki very much. Kind of reminds me of Richie Rich, whom I also hate. Shigure wins all. But unlike Yuki, 2008 was a year worth remembering, with many fond memories I hope will never be forgotten as I party wildly in celebration of my 15th birthday. (OWOWOWOW! FIVE-FOR-FIGHTING SUBJECT MATTER IN THE HIZZOUCE!)

Come, let us take a leisurely stroll down memory lane...

(while a-strolling, we come upon a large billboard.)
Brooke: Alas! What have we here?
Imaginary Snake Friend: Aye, it appears to be a billboard of great magnitude.
Brooke: Brilliant! Let us read it!
Imaginary Snake Friend: I concede!

By You Know Who.

(Imaginary Snake Friend: How very titillating!)

2003 was defeated.

Anyone who is anyone in my life should know by now that I long believed 2003 was the most incredible thing to ever grace the new millenium and could not be beat for a myriad of reasons. Due largely in part to the great number of movies that it spawned (*cough*VANHELSINGUNDERWORLD*cough*), and Mrs. Graf, among the most epic in great educators, and the fact that ten is the coolest birthday you get until you turn sixteen. This facts are true. However, 2008 virtually fell screaming atop my head, bursting the bubble that was my strong belief in 03's infallibility. The movies owned (*squeal*IRONMANTWILIGHTDARKKNIGHT*screech*), and while I do not believe any teacher in Texas will ever be as awesome as my favorites back north, I do get to be fifteen. Which leads to 16. And we all know what that means...
*giggles delightedly*


One thing I will say for San Antonio: this place attracts brilliant entertainment like flies to a BugZapper. Phantom of the Opera brought me to tears, laughter, muffled wails of delight, and eventually a panic-attack when the flames went shooting across the stage. (I did not EXPECT that.) And as for Warped Tour...well, I feel that crazy, albeit unforgettable, experience is best represented in our sheer exhaustion.

(Those last two were taken ten seconds apart. Guess which one was last. No, guess.)

Get Political

You know, I always swore I would never become a politician of any sort. This namely stems from a deep resentment that we elected Kelly Morones as class president in the good old Washing of Ton. But when the opportunity arose to run for student council at Johnson, I said hey, why not?

This would result in my election by default, to the post of Freshman Rep. I, alongside my painfully short and thick-as-a-brick counterpart Alec, strode across the football field for our homecoming game. Which we lost. And then I had the greatest non-strawberry milkshake I've ever tasted. It was a good night.

Our Abbeford

We got Abbey one morning when I was in full-force BROOKIE NEEDS A DOG mode. I'd done my research, but that ending up meaning next to nil, because Dad simply scanned the classifieds, found our little girl's listing, and off we went. Abbey was a name brought up in the car, amongst suggestions of Violet, Rosie, Bella (*only twilighter in the car at the time could not stop laughing about this*), and eventually (it was my idea!) Abbey. As in Abbey Road. As in the Beatles album.
She was ours from the moment we pulled in front of a shabby home to see her wiggling through the grates of the fence to come up and greet us. We were about to drive away to consider it and "maybe pick her up once we'd moved in...", but hey, we're Nowakowskis, and that dog was MIIIINE. So, *thump* goes Abbey into the backseat, and *vroom* goes the Axiom back to the accursed Monte Cristo.
She was far from potty trained. One nostril was decidedly misshapen. But what can we say? She's just a little Abby Normal.

In Which I Become a Minor Celebrity

Its a scandal that continues to this day. I couldn't wait for Breaking Dawn. And as something of an internet informant to the more emotionally involved fans of my community, I had a duty to serve. So, armed with bottled water and an arsenal of rumors, I sought. And found some very big spoilers. And, like any good informant, I was the first to share them with the world.
Currently pushing 63,000 views and nearly 1500 comments, my video has become a hotbed for fans who need a place to vent and complete idiocy. To this day I receive comments claiming I have committed literary blaspheme. As this seemed a result of people thinking I'd posted this after the book was released, I even put up a message stating that these were predictions, not justified statements of fact.
But alas, the stupidity never ceases to amaze me. A few pearls from the long strand that has been left to me by the world. All spelling and grammatical errors left in place for comedic effect.

"Don't believe everything you hear on boards, its just people chatting and making stuff up. Stephenie Meyer has stated that Bella will NOT get pregnant more than once. And Nessie? thats a horrble name. I don't believe this for a second. The only thing I believe is the Rosalie thing as i've heard it before."

This, unfortunately, is the most intelligent response I received. Skeptics are okay. Brainless minions of evil are not. Oh look, here they come!

"I would like 2 believe this is real but I am not convensted. Sorry."
To answer the obvious question: yes, I did mock this commenter in a response. And I don't feel bad either!

"Well Robert Pattinson is my cousin, and when they were filming Twilight I would go with him everyday to the set, and Stephenie Meyer was there one day, and she gave everyone a copy of Breaking Dawn. So I got it in April."
This one made a lot of people very angry. Very, very angry.

"Im kinda scared to watch this. I paused at 3 seconds. The person in the video said that is all real but in the description, its says it might not be real. Which should i believe??? And about the Nessie thing Skyeeeeeee is talking about, im like "whoa!!!" cause i have a friend who's nickname is Nessie. She's actually my bestfriend. She made that nickname up for herself cause she thought it was cool... This is really weird. Should i continue watching???"

"OMG!! JACOB I HATE YOU!!! FSJDfhlkgipskdlfgSGSDGSDfg that is how mad i am."

"ive read chapters 1114 of breaking dawn. THIS COULD BE FAKE! people have put things up all over the internet to freak us out and do you THINK Smeyer would make bella have a VAMPIRE BABY that sucks the life out of her and almost kills her!"


And this had nothing to do with the book, but I found it kind of funny. The second is in response to the first.

but i think that jacob nevver will do that, i dont think so, really, i don´t think that jacob raped her, no no and well, i knew that the vampires can´t have childs, but now, i´m in doubt, u think the same?
why'd you spell never with a w? are you polish or something?"

Oh, the people I met when experiencing the everyday life of a tuber. There was JenniferTwilight, who cussed out everyone on the comment board, and spoke those immortal words:

"Well, I'll definitely be revisiting THIS video once the book is out. Can't wait. (:

You guys are going to look like complete idiots, lol."

Her and I had a nice little chat.

"...You don't have the book, seriously. I don't know why you would lie, I don't have your brain, but it's just pointless. Well, we'll see tomorrow who's going to look imbecilic.
Ah, that we most certainly will..."

Suffice to say, Jennifer never came back.

The Two Weeks of Terror

The equation for pure, unadulterated awesome was another discovery of this year. It happened in late June. It is as follows:

Batman + 4 (to the power of cool) = AWESOME.

I must say, whether it was the terrorist campaign launched on Mitchell's room and all who inhabited it, getting messed over by Six Flags, or perhaps writhing in the agony that comes from killer sun exposure and swimming at night like a moray eel, it resulted in what were possibly the best two weeks ever. (AND WE GOT WILLIAM BECKETT'S AUTOGRAPH FTW YES!)

Jaguars are *clap, clap* ROWDY!

High school. Let me describe it in a form all can relate to. Haiku.

Nothing is finished
Upperclassmen drive, yell
"Lets murder some fish!"

Fish being us. Freshman. The "leetle cheeldren". And oh, the pain of being the youngest. No matter what you may do, say, accomplish or immortalize in graffiti, you will never attain the glory that is Seniordom. You have no one to pick on. The sophomores will simply scorn you and the juniors, mock you. But I like high school, very, very much. And if college is all its cracked up to be, I have a lot to look forward to.

Even still, there are some things that you only get to experience once; events exclusive to grades 9 through 12 in the North East Independent School District. Say, homecoming!

Ours coincided with Halloween, and given I was headed for the dance with my cluster of pre-spinsters, it only seemed appropriate to pose with tall, dark and green himself. So far, as the insider to my fellow frosh, we aren't really doing much until the talent show and prom. Which I get to go to FOR FREE. Because I am awesome. Student council=VIP, yo.

Brava, brava bravissima!

Pirate, eh, it was alright. But another highlight of my year was one of sheer tragedy, plain and simple. Enter: The Trojan Women.

(That's me in the derelict old woman coat. Note the dingy car. It is mine. And car, thy Brooke is a jealous Brooke.)

As "Injured Woman", shown here at curtain call (the only point at which I could forget my injury and skip about like the joyful creature I am!), I would deliver a short monologue, get beat on by cast soldiers Yogi, Aaron, Nick and even Laura the Office Woman, and do a whole lot of pathetic groveling when Menelaus leered over me for a good two minutes. Now, the most memorable part of this production has a great deal to do with that particular part, so let me set the stage.
We, the women, are all on our lonesome because Menelaus keeled our men and sad violins are sad. He comes, and we say we want Helen keeled because we are not happy no sir. So Chris (Menalaus) goes around beating on us and then, after the verbal abuse of moi, faces the audience.
Then, "it" happened. The rental tux was an unwieldy fiend at best, and we knew that. But when his cummerbund literally flew off, it was too much. The entire cast fell into stifled hysterics, while Chris proceeded to kick the cummerbund into the audience in a sudden "fit of rage". Backstage, whispers of "NICE SAVE!" could be heard in multitudes.

A Crazy Little Thing Called Fredericksburg.

I suppose I would be loathe to neglect Fredericksburg, the day that will remain in eternal memory as a brush with hellfire and death itself. The facts have been disputed. The weinerschnitzel has been consumed. (It was a very tasty weinershnitzel, as it happens.) Only the main points are clear, and motivations aside, it may still be too difficult to comprehend. As a wise man or frat boy once said, "you just had to be there, man." But this is Fredericksburg, as far as we know.
- Brooke is PMSing.
- The Nowakowskis are in Fredericksburg.
- Chocolate is overpriced.
- Samples are love.
- Streets are dangerous.
-Brooke is neglectful of others.
- Brooke is a catalyst for street-danger.
- Dad is not pleased.
- Brooke is PMSing.
- Dad is kicking.
- Brooke's shin is not pleased.
- Dad is, if it were possible, less pleased than aforementioned shin.
- Tourist stores are repetitive.
- Brooke nearly goes all emo on the locally grown canned salsa.
- Nowakowskis etc. are of mixed feeling.
- Antique stores are fun.
- Brooke is insidiously unrepentant.
- Did we mention Brooke is PMSing?
- German eateries are modestly priced and worth the drive.
- Weinerschnitzel does not heal all wounds. But it does stem the flow of tears.
- More antiques. Rrrrr.
- Drive home is awkward.
- Discussion is fervent.
- Fredericksburg becomes a meme, taboo, and catchphrase within the span of a single day.

As for the rest...well, we learned many things at Fredericksburg. And lets just say we haven't been back lately. I do miss the schnitzel, though.

O-K-L-A-H-O-M-A! (and Arkansas)

Oklahoma was an experience indeed. Made an experience by three key things.

(Imaginary Snake Friend: Oh my! It is a list within a list!)
(Brooke: How very revolutionary a notion!)

1. Seeing my Uncle Wesley again was a blessing in itself. I believe there are concepts and ideas that cannot be understood by rote knowledge alone, and have to be experienced, but visiting his home was another thing entirely. When I look into the life I have lived, and see not only the comforts I have been surrounded by, but also see the difference in the world I am raised in, I have new levels of appreciation for all I consider normal.
2. Uncle Wes alone is truly a pleasure to meet. When you spend your time in the presence of people even as young as I that spend all their leisure time in careful calculation for the next move in business and society on any level, it is almost shocking to see a person who really has no malicious intent toward others. A pleasant surprise, though. A kinder, gentler individual than Uncle Wes would be unheard of amongst the people I usually find myself in the company of. It becomes clearer and clearer, the more time I spent in his presence, that what the world labels a disability is in fact the ability to do what few others can: see the world without the filter that makes so many of us cynical and cruel in the face of hardship.
3. Last, and probably least of all, was a series of frightening coincidences that ended up keeping me awake until late hours of night, listening to 30 Seconds to Mars and praying the ghost of the Judge didn't come for me in my sleep.

It is Nowakowski lore 101. Joseph Smith, who is not a mormon, is instead a murdering hothead sentenced to death by His Honor, Judge Isaac Parker. He is hung by the man known better at "the Hangin' Judge", and time goes one.
Enter NOW. We check into the Best Western. Up the elevator to our room.
The Isaac C. Parker Suite.
Panic ensues. Over the course of our time in Fort Smith/Nowheresville, OK, we visit Parker's courthouse. The gallows that hung great-great-great-great-granpappy Jo. Stand under the trapdoor. It's all fairly eerie.
Then the moon is a bright orange color, our last night in town. I decide insomnia isn't that bad after all. And by the time we get out of there, I'm too distracted by Oblivion to write the novel I'd sworn to write about my ancestral hiccup in fate. Someday, maybe.

Imaginary Snake Friend: Now, that was quite the large billboard, was it not?
Brooke: Oh my friend, you have yet to even see her playlist of 08!
Imaginary Snake Friend: *yearns for companionship*
Brooke: Fret not, scaley one. Someday he ought remember.
Imaginary Snake Friend: *sigh*
(they walk off...into the sunset...FIN)

From me and everybody who <3s you, Merry Christmas Dad!

Saturday, November 22, 2008


Twilight beats Bolt. 33 million so far. Looking to beat opening of "Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone".

Summit just confirmed: New Moon is now "In Production".

Hugh Jackman is the sexiest man alive.


I think I may weep with joy.

Friday, November 21, 2008

Twilight Movie says...

Perfection. I haz it.

OH, where where where where WHERE do I begin?
Well, I suppose the beginning may be best.

We arrived at the theater three hours prior showtime- and were the first to do so. Way up in the front, we slowly watched the fans trickle in. T-shirts, pajama bottoms, and often copies of books being opened and shared between groups for review were a trend of the night.
By the time we entered the theater, the collective spirit of the Twilight fandom was in perfect form. Screaming through the previews (particularly during "the unborn", and when kristen stewart walked onscreen for a different movie), it seemed like this was going to be one very, very long night.

But something I love about Twilighters: they want to be there just as much as you do. By the time the Summit logo dawned over that ginormous screen, you could have heard a pin drop.
Better still, all Twilighters share a similar sense of irony, shock, and when things are just so awkward you know that only a true fan could register this for what it is: Meyer-humor. And that movie had it. Thankfully, it was backed up by fairly good special effects (if slightly awful makeup on a couple characters, some fantastic performances, and more wolfy-sparkly-sepia-washington-magic than you can shake a stick at. LET US BREAK IT DOWN!


10. Cameos, yo!
Stephenie Meyer is made of awesome. Why is this? Well, in the tradition of Stan Lee, she shows up in her movies. This time, writing away on her laptop whilst conversing with the friendly waitress. Next time- who can say? Either way, I do so love that woman.

9. Washington. I LOOOOOVE Washington.
You know, while I am the first to know that Twilight was- in fact- shot in Kalama, Oregon and NOT the Olympic Peninsula, it still tugs at the heartstrings to see my beloved west coast displayed with such camerawork as only Catherine Hardwicke can provide. Roll on, Columbia, roll on.

Any fan will immediately recognize the scene in which our unsuspecting Bella meanders in front of a "fan" (teheh), to the immediate discomfort of Mr. Masen-Cullen. However, our personal audience of le night laughs through the entire thing, with cries of gradually louder "ooooooooooooh!". Edward is fierce. Bella is frightened. And immediately, you can just see Melissa Rosenburg (our screenwriter, much love) just sitting at her desk, thinking "They are gonna diiiig this." And oh, we do. We made Twilight for them, now they are making Twilight for us.

7. Through the age-toned looking glass...
Another coolio write-in: we get to see Carlisle and his first two recruits to Camp Cullen at the all-important momento de decision. What follows looks painful, left us wincing with the memory, and is simply exactly how I imagined it. Soooo veeerrry perfeeeect. :D

Was what I cried to my seatmates as Edward stepped into that convenient shaft of light. Since I know forests in Washington actually do have "shafts of light", I have not grappled with that concept like y Texan peers. Anyhoo. If you have ever seen those christmas ornaments: the ones that look like they've been rolled in sparkly coconut shavings: thats really all I can compare it to. Needless to say, the sight is magical, and shriek inducing for the group of Reaganites congregated below my seat.

5. Two words. Vampire. Baseball.
You know, there will be some people that hated this part. But I really felt as though they pulled off the effect here, and when you set pretty much anything to "Supermassive Black Hole", it becomes significantly awesome. Plus, when Victoria says she's got a wicked curveball, I believed it.

4. There was no small role, and DEFINITELY no small actors.
Jessica, Mike, Tyler, Eric- they were totally showstealers, and I loved it. You could have made a movie on that alone. Cleverly written, perfectly executed, and I bet you Twilight's midnight showing revenue (all seven milion of it, yo!) that these peeps are getting fanclubs as we speak.

Having been listening to this soundtrack beforehand, I already knew I liked it. Still, while critics scorned it, I was elated to have the nearly perpetual music playing as the film progressed. n00bs won't get it, but for Smeyer, music WAS Twilight. She has a playlist for every book- sometimes specific songs for specific scenes. Once again, might I say that is the movie for the almighty fan. No way Joe the Plumber will understand a bit of it. However, this has not hurt numbers at all, as we will discuss later...

2. Heartstring #29: is pulled.
One scene that made me cry. Bella leaves Charlie. Made me cry in the book, but Billy Burke's AH-MAZAZING performance was absolutely heartbreaking. It moved me, Bob.

1. Jacob. Edward. O THE HATE!
RAAAAAA YES!!! I knew, the moment those two locked eyes, that this series is destined for EPIC AWESOME. They're perfectly cast, Taylor Lautner (aka Sharkboy, AKA JACOB!) is rather adorable even WITH his terrifying wig, and bound to absolutely MAKE New Moon. Which brings me to the part of the blog which excites me most...

Let me quote the Associated Press. Oh yeah- this is legit.

"The film adaptation of Stephenie Meyer's vampire-romance saga scored $7 million from shows at midnight on Thursday, and it's on pace to bank as much as $30 mil on Friday, Variety reports. That Harry Potter-esque sum would rank in the Top 20 of the biggest opening-day grosses in history. Moreover, the film is almost assured of exceeding its expected $60-mil-plus first-weekend haul -- by far."

In other words: Let the New Moon shooting, merchandising, and high-demand-sequel writing BEGIN!!!!!!!!!!

Monday, November 17, 2008


After a series of lukewarm episodes, Heroes has taken a turn for the AWESOME. By this, I mean that the final for the Villians saga, AKA Transition From Writers Strike Which Sucked time to the new and improved Heroes we all know and love is forthcoming. In the preview: Heroes, Eclipse, POWERS BE LOST! ALAS!
I translate this into my new theory for that most awesome show on TV, may it be loved by all. By "Fugitives", the name of the new saga, we can know that EVERYBODY ELSE ON EARTH will have superpowers(!) and the Heroes will not! May I reference The Flight of the Concords: THE HUMANS ARE DEAD!!!
But no- these humans live, and how very human they are! This means awesome stuff for Heroes. New people can come in- because the slate is wiped clean! Normal people in a world of oddity! How will they survive? Will they be hunted to extinction? What about the powered people that help these outcasts?

The epic win has arrived.
Thank you, Tim Kring.

And I dedicate this entry to this catchy little dance tune, "Eurodancer", by some DJ nobody knows. Love you, MC Joe the Plumber.

Friday, November 14, 2008

Speak it, Maya

In my poetic wanderings tonight, I happened upon something that really made me stop and reconsider an author I'd had little interest in prior today. Maya Angelou- a fantastic writer, as it happens, wrote some simple words that brought a light to my day.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not shouting "I'm clean livin'."
I'm whispering "I was lost,
Now I'm found and forgiven."

When I say... "I am a Christian"

I don't speak of this with pride.
I'm confessing that I stumble
and need Christ to be my guide.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not trying to be strong.
I'm professing that I'm weak
And need His strength to carry on.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not bragging of success.
I'm admitting I have failed
And need God to clean my mess.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not claiming to be perfect,
My flaws are far too visible
But, God believes I am worth it.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I still feel the sting of pain.
I have my share of heartaches
So I call upon His name.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not holier than thou,
I was just a simple sinner
Who received God's good grace, somehow!

It makes me think about talking to people here, trying to share what I believe- even when its hard for them to see why some kids that go to church and do the bit down here can live as though Christ is no part of their life. A lot of these people think christians are playing some kind of better-than-you card, or that we think we are superior. I guess if I could say something outright to anybody here, it would just be that I want them to have the chance to feel the way I have felt with God in my life. I believe there are times when things happen that I could never bear alone. And sometimes I wasn't completely alone- I had my family, sometimes a friend- but when its a dark and quiet night, and all the company a troubled mind has is the troubled thoughts that haunt them and God, I know which I will come back to.

As difficult as it is to bring up, I now look back on a very dark time in my life when people ask that hard question: why do you believe in God? I'll never forget it- two years ago this winter season, when my alienation during school was at its worst. I got sick. I wouldn't know it- honestly, I felt somewhat numb to many things at the time, let alone the physical pains that ailed me- and left my room to find my mom. It wasn't smart to go downstairs, but I went down the first flight, flicking on a light as I headed toward the basement. I thought I heard a stir at the bottom when I turned the corner to the last set of steps, and called mom's name. Then, my legs seemed to vanish beneath me, and the warm electric light disappeared.

I remember hurt, everywhere at once- shriekingly painful, but foggy and far-off, even as it ached throughout my being, even though I couldn't make sense of any limbs or the ground beneath. I could hear Mom's voice, but the words seemed just as muddled, and my own response could not be made.

But worse than anything was the blackness. That sheer darkness that blanketed my senses and my soul. Beyond all the strange sensations of unconsciousness, I wondered if I had died; if this is what it felt like, being eternally seperated from everything that mattered. Away from God.
In the reawakening that occured shortly after, I had time to contemplate my experience- and rethink the life I'd begun to consider so worthless and unimportant.

Then again, I've been on the other side of the table as well. Feeling a golden light and warmth when I was submerged in the baptismal waters of Lake Padden, lasting what felt like minutes in what was only seconds.
Knowing, when Calvin Moehn died, how that little boy was safe. Even now, he was not just flickered out of existence; a soul gone like a candle blown out by one gust of wind.
Finding my supposedly-lost necklace of the cross after a day of sharp doubt and wondering if I was ever supposed to be in Texas at all, before collapsing into tears beside my bed, thanking God for speaking to me when I needed him the very most.

I cannot truly relay to the people I have come to love here how His presence in my life has inexorably changed it. But if Maya Angelou said anything, its that we do not boast, but we live our lives with him in focus. And for that ability, I pray frequently.
So thank you, God, for another year. I know I need not wonder how I survived a fall down a flight of stairs headfirst.

10 In a desert land he found him,
in a barren and howling waste.
He shielded him and cared for him;
he guarded him as the apple of his eye,

11 like an eagle that stirs up its nest
and hovers over its young,
that spreads its wings to catch them
and carries them on its pinions.

12 The LORD alone led him;
no foreign god was with him.

You caught me.

Oh, our poor, poor celebrities

This is not sarcasm- I am truly starting to feel bad for the guy. As we speak, the Twilight cast (or parts of it) is visiting Hot Topic stores in malls across America for signings, meet/greets, the usual in what has been unofficially dubbed the "tour of terror". But nobody guessed exactly how crazy this would get: proven, as every mall thus far has had to call in police enforcement, helicopters- everything short of the national guard. A quick glimpse at the madness, via a press release from Hot Topic's own admin staff:
"On Monday at 6AM at the San Francisco event, the fans became disorderly and stormed the mall entrance. Mall security, numerous police, fire officials and our team from HT stepped in to calm the crowd and create a safe environment for the fans."

Notice: they leave out the helicopters. ;^D

And FYI- I haven't found my iPod yet. Gar.

And poor Rpattz, the man who cannot take this much longer. I think the fangirls may be driving him mad. A few instances:

"Five minutes in, he's trying to talk but no one can hear him. And then, six minutes in, someone throws him a scarf (which his enforcers quickly confiscate). It's not even Hufflepuff colors. I don't even know. The only thing he said that I was able to make out was "What?"

"One fan who got at least 10 seconds sported a neck tattoo inspired by the book Twilight: an apple with the word lamb next to it.

'Oh, [expletive], is that real?' asked the astonished actor after Alena Marsh displayed it."

"But every single time, I get so nervous, and kind of cold sweats, and everything. Every single time. I started crying in Italy. Like, completely involuntarily. [...] Like, do you know when you have the wrong reaction to something? It was really embarrassing. I didn’t even know I was. Kristen, I think, turned around to me. And she’s like, 'Are you crying?' I just found out there’s a whole pile of stuff. So. Yeah. I started crying when people are screaming at me. I really didn’t think that would happen." - Robert Pattinson, following his involuntary *tear,tearing* at SanFran: the Disaster.

In the aftermath of what can only be described at sheer pandemonium across our nation, not only has New Moon gone "into production" and Eclipse begun the scriptwriting process, but the Twilight Soundtrack currently tops the Pop charts, and millions like myself steel ourselves for the imminent midnight release. This has spawned much hilarious commentary.

Some comment/quotes from fellow Twat/Twi/Notlighters:

sithwitch13: He's like a lobster in a tank or something, and you just want to rescue him from all the drooling people with their noses pressed to the glass and release him in a bay somewhere so he can have a fighting chance on his own.

msmanna: If the lobster were smart enough to know what was coming, and was hammering on the glass with its little nippers while screaming, "OH MY GOD, THEY'RE GOING TO BOIL ME AND EAT MY FLESH WITH MELTED BUTTER!"

kijikun: Hot Topic employees aren't even allowed to talk about what happened in SF or any thing else that is happening. I was talking to two of the girls working at Hot Topic yesterday before the Panic at the Disco signing (a very orderly affair, I must say) and the manager came over and was like "yeah we aren't allowed to talk about it. Corp said. So you need to drop it, now."

lyrangalia: I can just see the Hot Topic higher-ups sitting in a room with their heads in their hands while one of them shouts at the front of the room:
"You do not talk about Twilight.
You DO NOT talk about Twilight.
If someone says "sparkle" or goes crazy, cries, the signing is over.
Only 10 customers to a signing.
One signing at a time.
No glitter, no biting.
Signings will go on as long as RPattz doesn't cry.
If this is your first Twilight Event, you HAVE to work security."

From a fake online news site:
"A recent event in San Francisco was particularly disappointing, as only 3,000 fans showed up and all they did was shove each other and possibly give one girl a bloody nose," said Summit VP of marketing Lucas Ledbetter. "If you want a movie targeted at teen girls to be a hit, you need riots of at least 10,000 people and a few dozen of them ending up in the hospital. Our real goal was to to see one or two deaths."

Ledbetter said his company has also been disappointed that fewer than 80% of opening weekend tickets have been sold so far online and that the movie wasn't able to score a coveted spot on the cover of The Economist magazine."

And FYI- I haven't found my iPod yet. Gar.

Thursday, November 13, 2008


That would be the current soundtrack for my life.

The setup: its opening night. I'm excited, nervous, and a little bit queasy, so I listen to my iPod in the hallway outside the auditorium with this girl who just moved from West Virginia. A short time later, its warmups: and crew is reminding us in the most anxiety-inducing manner possible. Thinking frantically, I lean in through the doorway, set said iPod atop a filing cabinet beside a small black binder, and pop into the black box for warmups.
Show goes great. I go home.
iPod stays.
And at approximately eleven 'o clock last night, I realize this.

But hey, easy job- I just pop into the room tomorrow morning, whisk away my mp3 player, and head off to biology.
Problem #1: iPod is not there.
Problem #2: No one seems to know if an iPod has been found.
Problem #3: I've searched my house, every inch of the theater facility, the car, the garage, the lawn: any place that little device could possibly be. Nothing.

So, as I sit here sobbing to myself, I face the revelation that my iPod has been stolen.

Plainly, I was being an idiot bringing the thing in the first place, but I thought "hey, everyone else does it, why not me?". Even an upperclassmen left his overnight the day before, picked it up the next day, and all's well that ends well.
Furthermore, I should have found a better place. Skipped warmups, gone to the dressing room, found my bag and shoved it to the very bottom, but there again: I thought it would be safe! Why oh why did I ever put an ounce of trust or faith in the human race?

Of these facts I am certain: there was most likely no janitorial presence that night. It was there during the time when we all entered the classroom after the show. It was on top of the filing cabinet, never moved by me. I have witnesses to prove each fact. But this brings to light an all the more painful piece of data: the thief ("fur", in latin: we're studying crime vocabulary this week!) is one of the cast or crew. One of these people that circles up for a group prayer each night before curtain, one that I link arms with each and every time, now knows they have taken something that belongs to me. And thus far, they have shown no remorse.

Its hilarious- the kids of the south have something of a reputation, for the most part. Like being born in the bible belt gives you automatic virtue and morals. For some, that may be true.

But when I stop and think about it, there are people everywhere that will do this without a second thought. And while I personally am going to the vice principal's office tomorrow morning to initiate the investigation process, I know there are some people that would never dare.
Why does this happen?

So excuse me while I beat myself up for being a retard in the highest degree. I have an iPod to find, and I will not get a night of restful sleep until I do.

Monday, November 3, 2008


AYEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TWWWWIIILIIIIIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Watch, and know my sheer elation.

That video is made of win. And Paramore?
Haley Williams- you are too legit to quit, as we say in News Staff.

As you all know- or really, as you sure as heck should know if you are even mildly acquainted with me- seventeen days from now, I will have but one goal and one destination: Northwoods 14, midnight (or two hours prior, so I can attract media attention as I mingle with other similarly neurotic teenagers), theater 7, most likely in or around the back row so I can jump up and scream without obstructing view of that fantastic reel of film which shall bring to life a novel I have dreamed of since July 2007. In Taylor's bedroom. When I uttered three important things that would alter the path of all things to follow.

1. Man..... Edward is kind of a creep, don't you think?
Kaitlyn: *shrug* I like Jasper.

2. Hey..... Jacob is a werewolf!
Taylor: *is scandalized*
Kaitlyn: Don't! I haven't got New Moon yet!

3. This is a weird book.
Taylor: Don't judge it till you read it!
Kaitlyn: You know what would be weird? If it turns out that Remus is really James and they got switched under the willow back when Sirius was trying to trick Snape and that would totally explain all the fatherly-sonly chemistry between Harry and his favvy teacher over the years--
Taylor: But I love vampires!
Brooke: Vampires suck! I'm siding with the werewolves.
Taylor: But Jacob is a freak!
Brooke: IS NOT!!!
Kaitlyn: *sigh*

Its been over a year since my Twilight experience began. A book that accompanied me from north to south, a fond reminder of home in an unfamiliar place, and- while other aspects might not have rendered such merit- the novel with a special place in my heart even now.

So me and Meaghan Cantu, both having tickets to the same showing and being stuck in the same Theater Productions class where all we do is read monologues and discuss this guy from Law and Order who is doing a workshop at our school in a couple weeks (not nearly as interesting as it sounds), decided we need to do something cool. And so I prose a poll- which, I suggest, you vote on- since I cannot make up my own mind.

School has thus far continued to keep me up late, waking up early, and completely exhausted at the times in between- in fact, a few weeks ago, I labored under the impression that I had carried my makeup bag with me for two hours in the morning, lost it in the locker room, and then proceeded to tell all my friends I had been a victim of blatant thievery: only to discover I'd left it on the office desk before I ever left the house. Then there was the clock....waking up at five, thinking the clock said six, panicking and pulling all my stuff together and dressing, then noticing the clock read 5:59 and falling into an tired heap on my bed.

Dontcha just love high school?

But its been fun- and once teams are set and the Trojan Women is over, my schedule quiets down considerably. Which might be nice, lest I get bored. Boredom, however, is the least of my worries, having become part of an unnoficial blood-pact with the people I eat lunch with to write a novel spanning 50,000 words, as a part of National Write a Novel Month. Yes, it exists.

We have it all planned out: deadline, discussion days, and consequences ranging anywhere from sitting in the middle of the walkway and eating lunch alone to shaving Keely from West Virginia's eyebrows off. This looks to be fun.

So everybody- have a fantastic election day (if that is possible.) Watch out for the moose, Dad. And Momitch- much love.

Sunday, November 2, 2008

*head explodes*

I am currently laughing so hard, tears are streaming from my eyes. And- for once- I must leech off another's writing, just to share this with everyone. The worst book ever has been found. And I am in hysterics. Enjoy, courtesy of

"Trapped under a beam with the countdown ticking away, the monster just on the other side of the battered door, and my friends are trying to free me, I look up at them and yell, "Go on without me. I'll be alright. I'll hold him off while you escape!" And my friends, because they know my sacrifice won't be in vain, make their getaway and when the monster breaks through just as the explosives go off, I know I died saving the lives of my dearest friends."

That pretty much sums up my experience reading Aaron Rayburn's novel, THE SHADOW GOD. I took one for the team, so the rest of you would NEVER have to be subjected to this beast. I beg you, don't let my selflessness be for nothing. Heed my warning. This is the worst book ever written."

*endless snorkling*

The back cover copy reads "Craig Johnson had two best friends, two caring parents, a hot girlfriend, and a nice truck--not bad for a twenty-year-old." Already we're in trouble. The author photo shows Rayburn in all his mid-20s virginal glory. Manson contacts, a black cap turned backwards with a red 666 monogrammed on it, he's posing next to what looks like a rubber demon. His bio includes the line "He also says that he owes a great deal of gratitude to the Devil . . . for filling his mind with such horrific images."

If this book is the most horrific thing the devil can come up, I think humanity is safe from the threat of hell.

There are so many things wrong with this book, I decided to keep notes so I could present them in an orderly fashion, with quotes to back me up. I don't want you to take my word for this novel's horridness, I'm going to let Rayburn speak for himself. We'll start with the plot.

Craig Johnson was cursed at birth when his parents left the town church led by the possibly-evil Father Spiers. Spiers then tricked Craig's father Matt into strangling him, only in the end, Matt had killed, not Father Spiers, but one of the doctors. So Matt's been in jail Craig's entire life. Shortly after Craig's 20th birthday he begins to notice a blue light emanating from his bedroom closet. He calls for his mommy (I'm not making that up, it's on page 14), but she doesn't see any light, so he plays it off like he'd seen a rat, and asks her to check in his closet. After she leaves, Craig is compelled to enter the light, which takes him to the Dark World, which is sometimes like a vast black void, paved of course cuz you have to have something to walk on in a void, and sometimes is like Craig's own neighborhood, complete with the houses of his friends. Those friends, Todd and Mark, are also pulled into the Dark World, but they make their escape and then begins the action as the three try to solve the mystery of the blue light and the dark world. To sum up--this book is 454 pages, okay?--Craig is the reincarnation of Abel, the Shadow God is Cain, and Father Spiers is Cain's acolyte, sent to prepare for his return to the real world. In the midst of all this Mark is killed and resurrected by Ridley, a club owner/satanist (he runs The Satanist Group Association. Again, I wish I was making this up!) and servant to Spiers and the Shadow God.

Craig's girlfriend, his mother, his father, as well as Mark's sister Margie and Todd's parents, are all killed and the cops think Craig did it. One cop does, anyway, Detective Jim Underwood, son of the doctor Craig's father Matt strangled to death 20 years earlier. DUN-DUN-DUN!!! There's a showdown where Craig is sucked into another portal to face Cain, who then becomes a dragon, and Todd jumps in to help his friend, they all die--except Craig--and we live happily ever after.

Okay, I know it doesn't seem THAT bad from the plot. But I haven't begun quoting yet. Mark Twain said, "The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and the lightning bug."

Rayburn wasn't even close.

"Spiers's eyes popped extraneously from their sockets, as his face turned from a deep red to a sickly purple."

"Extraneous" means "irrelevant." I don't think that's what he meant. At least, I hope not.

Here's my favorite:

"The lamp's glow was very weak compared to the blue glow emancipating from the basement."

Emanating, Rayburn, EMANATING. When will people learn never to trust their SpellCheck without verifying it's the word they meant??? There are, in total, 11 instances of Rayburn using the wrong word, and believe me, each one is funnier than the last.

Okay, one more.

"It infiltrated his lungs, filling them with a kind of innovativeness he had never felt before."

To be honest, I don't know what word he meant, but I keep seeing Craig's lung filing patents for a dozen new inventions, getting promotions for discovering an even newer formula for Tide laundry detergent, or finding the cure for cancer.

Then there are the characters. Craig and his buddies are all 20, they're in college, and they have cars and money. Craig bribes the guard with hundred dollar bills when he's trying to get in to see his father in
prison. Yet never in the entire book do these men go to class, nor to a job. Where did Craig get his "nice truck"? His mother works "odd jobs", so I doubt she co-signed the loan.

And the dialogue. Oh dear, the dialogue.

"That's probably the fiercest dragon known to man," Craig tells Todd toward the end. Because, you know, we have so many different kinds of dragons in the world with which to compare.

Okay, so he uses the wrong word and his characters are morons. You can overlook a misused word here and LOTS of writers are horrible with characters. Hell, I'm guilty of this myself. But sometimes he just
plain gets his facts WRONG:

"The stranger was beastly in size with thick, bushy eyebrows, a prominent protruding forehead, and a thick, black coarse beard. His gait was that of a mammal--a Neanderthal."

I know I never went to college, but um . . . do you think Rayburn knows HUMAN BEINGS are mammals as well?

And later we learn that Cain and Abel were Neanderthals who lived in the stone age, feared dinosaurs, and that Cain was kicked out of the Garden of Eden for slaying his brother. Dude, Cain and Abel weren't born until a LONG time after Adam and Eve--the only two people who ever lived in the Garden of Eden--were kicked out.

And not only is this the worst book ever written, it's also the worst-written book ever.


"Of all the things to think, he never thought he'd think that."


"Already, he knew he wouldn't be able to do it. In fact, he KNEW he wouldn't."


Wasn't that already established in the previous sentence?

"Eubanks looked annoyed. He exhaled annoyingly and said..."

You know what? I could do this all night.

THE SHADOW GOD is the perfect example of everything that's wrong with publishing in today's world. Anyone with the notion--talent or not--can write a "book", then contact a place like AuthorHouse ("publisher" of this fine volume and, I'm sure, Rayburn's second novel which I don't care enough to look up the title to), and unleash this mess on an unsuspecting world. And then we wonder why no one reads anymore. Why should they? If this is the kind of stuff they're being subjected to.

Used to be a writer had to learn to WRITE before they could get published. Now, all you need is a couple thousand dollars and you got yourself a book. Talent? Who needs it? Skill? What for? Learning to write? Are you kidding me? Forget about it, I've got this here manyooscript and an address I can get it printed, I'mma be one of dem novelists. Riches, here I comes!!!

It's enough to make aspiring writers want to give up seeking legitimate publishing venues. Please don't. Just be sure to write better than this guy."