A Bit of Writing Part 5

This is only one sentence, but I'm a little proud of it:

He had never considered himself an affable person, and was therefore often bewildered to find that other human beings wanted to aff him.

A Bit of Writing I've Been Working On Part 4

I've written about five or six hundred Beginnings, but I think I'll settle with this one.

Shakespeare, we understand, was only human. He may have been the greatest playwright to walk the Earth’s crust, he may have made his grandmother proud, and he may have been capable of tying a cherry stem into a knot with his tongue, but he was, in fact, human. Unlike God, when Shakespeare began a story, he was often forced to do so in medias res, that is, “in the middle of things,” when the beginning is not so much a beginning as a continuation of happenings that sprung from some other beginning, just as an omelet is made from an egg which came from a chicken, which came from an egg, and so on, until we have reached back in time to the First Chicken, who, we are told, was actually a Tyrannosaurus Rex. But life went on for the chicken, as it did for man, and thus, Shakespeare wrote his plays in medias res. It was for this reason that as his audiences seated themselves before his stages with their sixteenth-century popcorn and rotten fruit, they asked one another, “Which of the T-Rex’s descendants is this particular egg, and who, do you suppose, were its parents?” Eventually, Shakespeare grew tired of audience members muttering that they were not provided with enough backstory, and so he began the practice of writing what is called a Prologue, so that his congregation would understand why Romeo and Juliet's enhitchment would be a scandal before the killings began.  

The following narrative is a story which takes place about twenty-two years after The Beginning, which is why the author has deemed it prudent to report a short history of happenings that have happened hitherto. In the beginning, etc, etc. 

Bits of Writing: Character Goals

Hello!

What you are about to read [or not, if something better comes up] is a bit of fluff I've had in my head that has been growing over the past six months. It started out as a silly idea for a book, then became a silly idea for two books, and gradually developed into a silly idea for a three-part story. I've written most of Part One down and I plan on writing down Parts 2 and 3 sometime after I graduate in the next twenty seven years. I'm not going to say anything about the story itself because I don't want to. But I would like to say just a little bit about the goofy people in it for my own edification, so it's all clear in my head. I don't know if I can call them 'characters' because the story isn't complete and it isn't an actual book at the moment, but the fact is that they exist in my brain in my little bit of a story.

One thing I will say about the story is that it's about four more or less stupid people who like to read.

Also I'm not telling their names because I don't want to.

G is my Piglet in Part 1 and [I hope] goes through something in Part 2 which will turn her into Pooh.

M is also my Piglet in Part 1 and remains Piglet until Part 3 in which he will try [unsuccessfully] to be Christopher Robin, whereupon he will go back to being Piglet.

C will tell you that he is my Eeyore, but he tends to behave more like Tigger. I'm a bit fond of C.

F is my Owl, my Kanga, and my Rabbit, but feels like Roo whenever she gets to use her gun.

Extended Hobbit 3: A Short Review

BIFUR BOFUR BOMBUR!!!!

DAIN!!!!!

CHARIOT TROLL CHASE!!!!!!!

LEGOLAS!!!!!

THORIN FILI KILI!!!!

THAG YOU VERY BUCH PROFESSOR TOLKIEN AND MR. JACKSON 

A Bit of Writing I've Been Working On: Part 3

Another bit I'm pleased with. 

The Universe, being the result of a Divine Urge to do something creative, gives humanity many, many different forms of art in which to get lost when being set upon by life’s tragedies, horrors, and those painful periods of asphyxiating dullness. The different dimensions of art we are given to play with can be collided, woven together, or shaped into the forms that we find pleasing. For instance, a song is a collision of the dimension pertaining to music with the dimension pertaining to poetry, sometimes woven together with the dimension belonging to the art of storytelling. A book is constructed by kneading storytelling together with prose, and a film does its best to combine storytelling, music, prose, and visual art all in one pleasing enchilada of artistic imagination. And because a film, in this way, is a four-dimensional work of art, it is easy when watching a film to become lost, even if a person finds himself in the distressing circumstance of being caught in a time-warp, and coming home to discover that his fiancee is forty years older than himself.

Here's An Idea

After an intense study on the nature of humanity and of humanity's intricate relationships with fiction [AKA this is all B.S. that I'm making up without providing actual evidence], people will do anything for their fictional universe and its inhabitants. Snape can be forgiven for occasionally being a butthead because he did it all out of love; Sherlock is forgiven for occasionally being a jerk, because he's hilarious and some people are just born that way; the Winchesters can be forgiven for eliminating  kids' parents in front of them because it's their job and they had no other choice.

What I'd like to ask is, if something about me bothers you, like my beliefs on Traditional Marriage Vs. Gay Unions or my Non-Outrage re. GMOs or my overall Catholicism or my Unwithering Respect for PG Wodehouse, please think of me as a fictional character who was made that way, because that's basically what I am. Please don't jump directly to, 'she's an arrogant bigoted hypocritical moron who thinks everyone is going directly to hell without passing Go and collecting $200.' I love it when people have as much compassion on their inmates as they do on their favorite flawful fictional characters, and I promise I'll try to do the same for all you heretics. That's all I got to say about that.

This is going to be a post in which I whine about other people whining, so you have been warned.

I've been coming across articles lately titled something like "___ is Dead." I never read them, because I don't feel like it. But I've noticed a general vibe of "Good Thing X is Dead," "Happy Thought Y is Dead," "Chivalry is Dead," "Art is Dead," "Your Grandmother's Homemade Biscuits are Dead," and I'm TIRED of it.

So, in response, I have just one thing to say.

Once, for three days, God was dead. Then he came back and was like

YO