On Authors

  I often wonder about authors and their seemingly unbreakable spirit of creativity and pure determination.
  What is it that spurs the mind of a gifted intellectual on and brings out the best and worst of their personal traits and gained skills?
  It’s as if without fail or error in the slightest form, each master of language– both published and unknown to the world– has taken at least one twinkling star from the sky as a means of encouragement, and indulged in bedizen actions for his work.
  If this is indeed the case, then from where does one gather information for a worthy piece of literature?
  Libraries and museums are within the confines of a tangible realm– the author must reach beyond such boundaries and seek nothing but the utmost sources of knowledge, which is more than often located quite directly in the cerebellum and is awaiting one’s need for it.

A Little Bump Goes a Far Way

  The date is some years ago(approximately over 5 years, anyway) and the setting is around 2:30 P.M., at the house of Hinojosa, where a visitor has just arrived and is settling. The age of the youngest sibling is 3 years old- the time where they’re still adorable.

  I remember this event more clearly than any of the others I’ve shared with you. Partially because it’s been branded in my mind, and at the time, it was hilarious. In the end, though, I think it did its fair share of irreparable damage.

  My Aunt had come over for the afternoon to “hang out” with her favorite nieces- probably because we are still her only nieces.

  She excused herself to the bathroom while my mother, sister, and I sat down in the T.V. room to set up a competitive and fun game of UNO. There were beverages on coasters and snacks in bowls and on plates set up on the table as well.

  We didn’t notice when my sister sneaked away, most likely to bother or “check” on out Aunt.

  That’s when we heard it- a loud, deafening shriek. A pudgy, baby-fat-is-still-there shriek. We ran out of the room and witnessed something that I had believed to be horribly funny. My sister ran, tripped, and fell, hitting her head against not only the buffet, but the TILE floor as well. A loud “crack!” was heard, then some wailing.

  As I look back on it, I think I wish I would’ve taken it a bit more seriously. After all, she could’ve really hurt herself; but she was fine. I don’t know what scared her. It might’ve been the spider on the wall that no one bothered to kill because it was large AND apparently ready to jump.

  She developed a large bump, and my mom(being a nurse) used a Sharpie to mark it and made sure that the swelling went down. Since I told her(said sibling) that our mom was actually playing tic-tac-toe on her forehead, she believes it with all of her heart to this very day.

  That injury explains a lot. Such as her horrible scores on Driver’s Ed tests, her social acceptance, sewing skills, and so much more.

Omnicon Haul

  I found a lot of cool things and met a great deal of awesome cosplayers. My sister(who has just received her invasalign braces) lost the darn, clear things in a trashcan, apparently while I was gone enjoying myself. I think she takes after me. My mom told me all about it over the phone, then asked if I could come over to clean. Having to leave the event early made me sad, but I can still go back since I have the band and I figure that I owe her since she carried me around for 9 months.

  Anyways, time for photos of what I bought!


Domo- Skeleton version.


Death Note Notebook(which actual instructions and names from the show written inside).


A set of cards for my Uncle.


Ciel and Eevee pins.


Inuyasha: The Final Cut(Part 1).

  And that’s it! I also met David Yost, the original blue Power Ranger. As well as a few others. It was a lot of fun!

Barnes & Noble- I Salute You

  Today I decided to withdraw from my little piece of comfort, joy, solitude, and hermit-like state of living so that I could “cruise the town” and hopefully stumble upon a hidden spring of information and inspiration. My first stop? A quick bite to eat at a Wendy’s from their dollar menu- unfortunately or not, I hate spending a lot of money on takeout; I love cooking my own meals, as well as indulging every once in a while and stuffing my mouth with salty French Fries and a bacon cheese burger.

  I finished my meal and exited the building quickly. I still had no idea what I was going to do or where I was going to go, so I got in my car and sat there for a few minutes before having the genius idea to visit a place that I really love more than any other place. Barnes & Noble.

  Being able to look at so many books in one place fascinates me, which makes the library my second favorite place. Not only do they have a lot of books, but the variety is great! I have to admit for all of you manga/anime fans out there that they’re a little shabby in the manga and anime department, yet other than that, the selection is fantastic. They do tend to over price their books, movies, music, etc.,(to give you an example of what I mean, a series of only 13 episodes cost approximately $50- crazy, right?) but I know that business is business.

  Even though I was on a very limited budget, I think I managed to waste more money on gas then on anything I actually bought; which happened to be a sketch book for $3.

  I really love how helpful the majority of the staff is whenever I go there- they answer any questions you ask, show you certain areas you were looking for, suggest certain things if you’re not sure what it is you want, and much more(probably because it’s their job). I even love their mini-coffee area. I’m a huge coffee lover– I just can’t get enough of the Mocha Moolatte from Dairy Queen(it could be the fact that I like to save my money and freelance writing doesn’t exactly have a stable or fixed income), or the French Vanilla that I drink while writing. I know that caffeine causes Kidney Stones(these are “stones” that really can’t be seen and are excreted during urination. Some cases are so bad that before a person passes a Kidney Stone, they may become nauseated and throw up, faint, or even have horrible headaches. Drinking large amounts of caffeine on a daily basis will likely make this painful thing possible) and supposedly stunts growth, but I figure that I’m not going to grow anymore, so why not?

  About their shop- it’s like a café, and what’s better than a book store with a café in it? They even sell sweets and other consumable products.

  The only downside about Barnes & Noble is their somewhat lackadaisical “no reading the books or sitting down in an aisle” policy- which is basically ignored by the general population, which I find rude. Rules are made to be followed and obeyed, not broken. Oh well, most of the times, the occasional dedicated employee with kindly inform a rebellious visitor of the rules. I’ll be the first to admit that I do sometimes read part of a book while sitting down at a hidden table somewhere at the back of the café so as to not be seen until either a few minutes before closing, or someone finds me and scolds me in a polite way.

  Overall, the trip really made my day and I hope to go there again tomorrow to see what else piques my interest.



  The setting sun had become just the same as that which rises. When you don’t sleep for days on end, the sun and moon begin to look the same, the hours begin to blur.

  She extended a slender hand which was immediately engulfed by the surrounding darkness, and let a long breath of air in the form of a ghostly yawn escape past her lips.

  Nothing stirred in the house besides her and the anxiety that plagued her mind. The sound of her turning to rest on her side echoed within the walls of her confined train of thought.

  Splendid silence; but no sleep. She was exhausted, every muscle ached and her eyelids were heavy with worries, but she simply couldn’t rest in peace.

Is This Interesting?

  I’ve been sharing a few of my works(unfortunately, they’re not published) here lately, and I’m wondering what you think. Below, I’ll provide a small sample from something I’m currently working on, so please let me know and you’ll make my day.

  “It’s Worse than Intoxication”
Chapter 1:Rock ‘n Roll Legend

  Luke puckered his lips and rested the cigarette between them. He took a long, deep swig of the addictive nicotine product and parted his lips again to blow the smoke out from his lungs as best as he could.

  A hand rested on his shoulder, causing him to flick the live cigarette butt away from his grasp and incline his head slightly to view Derek, the leader of “the pack”, as he often called himself.

  “I thought you quit.” He said briefly, moving his surprisingly gentle hands away from Luke’s shoulder so that he could help him stand up.

  Luke shrugged slightly and dusted off his clothes. He flashed Derek a “where’s Kami and the others” look, which consisted of a sideways, narrow-eyed glance and a wild air guitar riff with his hands followed by an energetic and violent session of banging on a set of air drums.

  Derek chuckled and moved one shoulder up, then down in a half-hearted shrugging motion. “Dunno. Last I saw them, Kami was flirting with some girls, and Jun and Mark were just practicing. Don’t worry, we’re not on for another 30 minutes and there’s no way in hell that they’ll be late.”

  “Yeah,” Luke said while sticking a hand in his coat pocket to search for another cigarette, “That’s ‘cus if they ruin this, you’ll lop their heads off and sell them on the black market.” He groaned with displeasure at the absence of a thin, orange and white object between his oddly full lips, but shook the feeling as soon as he noticed Derek’s hawk-like stare.

  “Have you rehearsed at all?” Derek asked nonchalantly, mentally waving off the look of disappointment and rage that Luke had practically thrown at him.

  “More than you.” Luke sang out, his voice making Derek wince and cringe as if in pain.

  “This is why I’m the singer…” Derek grudgingly muttered under a soft breath.

I Don’t Like the Screaming

  My mom once asked me if I liked heavy metal, which I thought was odd since she knew all about my strongly worded music genre preferences.

  “Do you like this kind of music?” She had asked while changing the radio station in the car and landing on one in the middle of a famous Metallica song.

  I stared at her. Why would I, a teenage girl(at the time of this event I was 16 years old), enjoy heavy metal of all things? I used to be so close-minded. In my head, heavy metal was a group of men headbanging to subliminal messages about drugs, violence, and death, and screaming incoherent lyrics at the audience and one another.

  “No,” I stated firmly, almost as if I were cross with such an indignant inquiry, “I don’t like it– it’s stupid. All they do is scream.”

  A soft and dramatic gasp came from beside me. I plastered my face against the window to try to see where the cars had crashed, ambulance had rushed by with an odd silence, or cat had been run over. Instead, I saw a normal road ahead and no horrible incidents. I turned to face her.

  “Get the cassette.” The answer came with gentleness. I groaned, but obediently did as told and pulled out an old, unnamed cassette from within a compartment and slid it into the old-fashioned player.

  Several alarming sputtering noises later, we were listening to what I claimed as “one of the best songs of all time.”

  My mom smiled slightly as I came to a pride-damaging realization.

  “Er, this isn’t… Queensryche, is it?” I asked, dreading the answer which I knew was to come.

  “Yes, it is! This song is ‘Silent Lucidity’. What do you think? Heavy metal isn’t all screams, is it?”

  I sighed in defeat and nodded in agreement. “I like it.”

  Since then, I’ve opened my mind– and now I listen to all sorts of songs from everywhere! And I’ve come to respect heavy metal– even with the screams; but rap, that’s something else, altogether.

A Prehistoric Adventure

  A small segment from something I’m working on. It has to do with dinosaurs, creatures that have fascinated me for ages.

Chapter 1: Genetic Crisis– Part 1

  I looked at the sheet of paper with the museum’s layout printed on it in the form of an ironically white blueprint and turned my head slightly to the left.

  Today was the Holistor Museum National Celebration Day– a very important event amongst the elder townspeople and the curious children of younger age. Most of the adults between the two similar groups were too busy with their overpriced lunches and busy work schedules to attend the rare and once-in-a-lifetime exhibition.

  “Am I seriously the only 23 year old in this building?” I asked in utter disbelief. Without another word, I slipped away from a crowd of nursing home patients that would surely keep me in one spot for over five minutes.

  Nothing really caught my attention. Everything was basically the same– except for all the visitors. That’s when I saw it. A new room.

  Curiosity overcame me, and I inched closer to the mysterious looking door. It must be an extension, I thought.

  Once I was near enough, I extended a hand and grasped the doorknob. I turned it and pushed the door open, then closed it behind me as I stepped into the room.

  “Is this—”

  I was interrupted by a hoarse, authoritative voice from ahead of me. “Hey, you’re not supposed to be in here!”

  “Ok, ok! Geez…” I glared at the large man in all black on my way out of the small extension and almost slammed the door.

  There was no denying what I saw. Someone was definitely messing with nature and fossils– and I wanted to know why.

  If only I knew at the time that my want to know and what I saw was a deadly combination.

Coffee and Creativity

  I pulled out the red, wooden chair a bit and squeezed onto the seat between the edge of the table. A cup of French Vanilla was already on a matching saucer on the polished tabletop.

  My bag was rested against one of the chair legs. I pulled the zippers apart and fished out a notebook and pen. Once I retrieved my work tools, I set them down on the red space before me and opened the notebook to its fifth page.

  Trying to concentrate and really get into a “working” frame of mind, I brought the rim of the teacup to my lips and took a quick, yet scalding sip of coffee, then set it back down against its respective tray with a small “clink.”

  The noises of moving vehicles, angry birds, and chatting bevies of women and men all began to fade into the back of my mind. I poised my pen, completely ready to begin writing, when I heard it. The deep, alluring chuckle of someone nearby.

  Somewhat startled, I looked up to find a man with a chiseled jaw, beautiful hazel eyes, and short dirty blond hair standing near the empty seat just opposite my little workshop.

  “Sorry, you just looked so determined.” He stated coolly.

  I groaned slightly, obviously disappointed because my train of thought had just crashed. “Oh, that’s nice.”

  “My name’s John. I’m new to America.”

  I raised a brow in question, finally noticing the accent that lurked in his voice. “So, you’re a tourist?”

  He pulled our the chair and sat down. “Yes– I’m from Australia. Do I have the privilege of knowing your name?”

  I couldn’t help but to smile a little, knowing that this type wouldn’t stop talking until a friendship, or possibly more, was established. “Alice. It’s a pleasure, Mr.Australia.”