"Forever's an awfully long time."

Archive for August, 2013

August 31

Among all the dates in the world, besides my birthday, my immediate family’s birthday, and holidays, August 31 sticks out.

It’s his birthday today, and I have never forgotten this date. For the past seven years, I have not forgotten that. 

The fact that I’m even writing something about this means that he still means something to me. And I’m not proud of it.

I am supposed to be over you, I am supposed to have closure. I am supposed to be strong, and I am supposed to concentrate on who I love now.

But why am I weak? Why are you the one who makes me bend, and fall down at my knees? How can I not be in love with you and yet so affected by you?

You were never my boyfriend. But you were my first love. You were the first to touch my heart. You were the first one who liked me the way I liked you.

I remember your birthday four years ago; you wore the shirt I gave and picked out for you the Christmas before.

I remember how you used to pace with me. I remember how we had to whisper that night so that no one would wake up.

I remember you were the first one to cuddle with me while watching a scary movie. There is so much I remember.

Maybe one day I’ll finally forget. Maybe one day I’ll finally learn, but I don’t think today is that day.

So happy birthday, Pierre. Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you. I miss you like crazy, happy birthday to you.

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The Daughter of a Deity

Thanks to Pearl, I have been addicted to the book series by Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus (The Lost Hero, Son of Neptune, Mark of Athena, and the upcoming House of Hades). It is the sequel series to Percy Jackson

Mythical deities and creatures, like Greek gods and goddesses, and the ancient stories like the Odyssey, have always fascinated me. Even though I haven’t really been as into it as much as Harry Potter, it’s still on the Top 10 list of “My Favorite Things”. (Ooh. Blog idea. But let’s not talk about that now.) 

After practically diving into the Percy Jackson series about a year ago, I decided to wade in with caution through the Heroes of Olympus. I’ve been a bit paranoid about series sequels ever since a couple years ago when I read the first book of a certain sequel series that made me think that well, maybe not only movie sequels are horrid. 

Anyways, I’m halfway through The Son of Neptune and there are all these demigods getting claimed and I thought; who would my godly parent be? 

Well, I’m very certain it wouldn’t be Athena. Wisdom, I am not, so let’s think some more. Aphrodite? (mentally frowns) No. Hera, who was kind of a b*tch throughout the whole series AND YET is the goddess of family? I don’t think so. Poseidon? I like swimming, but… I don’t think so, either. Zeus, who is completely bad-ass and hard headed, and is still… well, I don’t know, a power hog? I don’t think so. Hmmm. Ares, and their cabin is full of hyped-up war freaks? Sounds fun. Really. But hmmmm. 

I don’t actually know who my godly parent would be. And in some cases, even if you don’t think you’ll fit in, you actually will. Like how Piper is a daughter of Aphrodite and  Frank is a son of Mars a.k.a Ares. Who knows, maybe I’m really a daughter of Zeus. Or a daughter of Dionysus, even though I don’t drink. 

But if you asked me? Personally, I think that Kaitlin, Daughter of Hades, sounds very appealing. Maybe even ‘Daughter of Hermes’. Ooh. 

Scars and Bruises

I have many bruises. In fact, it came to a point once where I thought I had leukemia because all these bruises popped up on my legs like during one whole week. I bruise easily. (When AJ bit me, when I hit my elbow against the desk earlier, when I slammed my knee into the wall, when I fell down into the muddy ground during our acquaintance party… and yes, it’s still there) 

I also have scars. The most notable scar I have, though, was earned during the summer before fourth year high school. It’s a dog bite, and is just one purplish brown, scarred, hole behind my left knee. I’m proud of this scar. It makes me feel sort of like Harry Potter. Harry has this lightning shaped scar on his forehead, right, and it well, kind of helped in shaping his destiny. (Goes into a deep, geeky description of how Voldemort, choosing to use the Killing Curse against Harry, gives him the scar which basically just defines the rest of Harry’s life) 

My scar is what made me realize that I could be a nurse. 

That I should be a nurse.

When Bolt (the rugged, fluffy brown Chow-chow that belong(ed) to my auntie) bit me that summer, I remained strangely calm. I knew what to do. Pressure. Don’t panic. Don’t pull your leg away. Clean the damn wound. And I didn’t even cry. 

I usually cry. Like, literally burst into a waterfall, a waterfall that’s as loud as an ambulance. But that time? No. Not at all. 

You could say it was my defining moment.

Now, about my bruises. I think they symbolize the fact that I get hurt a lot of times. And it really does take me a while to get over things. (Like this bruise I have had since August 5, that isn’t exactly going away) 

On the other hand, they might just be a sign that I’m clumsier than a moose wearing high heels. 

Life, Certainly Unexpected

There are some times when I am just mesmerized by life; the times when I feel like everything is perfect, and just the way it should be. Today was one of those times.

Earlier, at 9:30 AM,  I was able to help bring a beautiful, healthy, 2.5 kilogram baby boy into the world. 

Words can’t explain how grateful I am to be a student nurse. Bringing lives into the world is one of my favorite experiences. Even though I’ve only aided in three deliveries, (Two normal ones and a Caesarean) I feel like these three have helped me realize how beautiful life is. 

And all three times, I’ve found myself getting a bit teary-eyed when I hear the little ‘waah! waah!’ that comes a few seconds after the baby comes out of the mother’s womb. It’s just amazing to me how life can come so quickly into the world but can be affected by so many things. 

Life. Four letters. Similar to love. These sentiments that enter into my mind when I’m caring for patients, handing instruments to doctors, or assisting in deliveries, makes me sensitive to the fact that sometimes we take a lot of things for granted. 

Life. It’s beautiful. Sometimes, we need to remember that. 

Why I Write Fanfiction

Fanfiction.

It is one word that gets thousands of different reactions from different people. I, as a proud fanfiction writer, have almost heard them all.

“Fanfiction? Harry Potter’s an accountant! Ron worked in a chocolate factory! HAHAHAHA!” (Excuse me, I will never write something as atrocious as that (sorry if you think it’s okay, or somewhat funny, but I will never write something that seems almost like an insult to the original author))

“Wait – you’re (insert my penname here)?! OMG. OMG. OHHH MY GOD. I’ve been reading your fics since first year high school!” (Awwww!)

“You’re ruining the (book, manga, TV series, cartoon, etc.). Just leave them be. It was supposed to be that way.” (… Just wait.)

“Whacha writing? … Fanfiction? What’s that?” (Well, sweetie, it’s hard to explain but yeah.)

“Fanfiction! Can you make one where Neji doesn’t die?” (I do. I do it all the time. </3)

“Well, it’s not going to end up in a book, anyway-“

These are actual legit expressions of people who have reacted to me writing fanfiction in public, or have commented on any of my Facebook statuses saying that I’m either writing or reading fanfiction.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I am not mad at you personally, if you’re reading this and realize that ‘OMG, that’s me.’. As a writer, I take criticism very positively, and I understand that not a lot of people are going to like the same things that you like. You know, how not every person in the world is not going to like Twilight (I don’t) or some other vampire-ish novel (Still don’t).

So now that I’m done with my somewhat lively-not-serious introduction, let me continue on into this completely informal blog post.

Why do I write fanfiction?

I’m not going to give you the reason that, ‘Well, Harry Potter is done and over with, and there’s no way you’re going to get a new story out of it, so might as well make your own’ or ‘It’s a totally cool way to show off and flaunt my talent as a writer’ or ‘It’s what I do in my spare time when I’m not beating deadlines or making Nursing Care Plans’ or ‘Peer pressure’.

It’s waaaay deeper than that.

Let me narrate to you a situation.

You’re reading one of your favorite book series. (cough cough Harry Potter) You’re at the peak of the story’s plot. It gets very exciting. You’re happy. This is what your favorite characters are best at. Hexing, jinxing, flying on brooms, sword-swishing, running, lots of other magical verbs ending in -ing –

Oh, my god. Oh no. Oh no. Someone died. SOMEONE DIED. It can’t be. Nonononononononono-

You start crying. 

But then… you realize. 

YOU can bring him back to life. YOU can give him the love life he’ll never have. YOU can make his family happy. 

Taking the advantage of the fact that I consider myself a somewhat ‘okay’ fanfiction writer, and although it took me a bit, I have created fanfics that make almost everyone happy. Including myself.

You see, fanfictions are a way of letting my imagination become reality. (Or, I mean, as real as it could get, seeing that they really ARE never going to be published, except in the internet world) Fanfictions give me this weird sense of closure. (For example, when Neji died, I just made tons and tons and tons of fanfics about his death.)

So I see you looking at me, going, “Hey, Kaitlin. They’re just fictional characters.”

No.

Fictional characters were almost the only thing I had when I had four rough years of school. Fictional characters make me happy. They’re never JUST fictional characters.

Through fanfiction, I give them a new life, I make people laugh, cry (yes, I have made people cry. Not bragging or anything. It’s true.) and reminisce about their favorite character. Fanfiction makes me happy. And I’m not just doing it for others; to gain appreciation from the fan base. I’m doing it for myself.

That’s why I write fanfiction.

Update: Shameless plugging here, but if anyone wants to read any samples, just comment and I’ll link you. Thanks for reading!

My Mind Palace

Fans of BBC Sherlock will have heard that phrase already; a mind palace. It’s where Sherlock goes when he needs someplace quiet to think, when in all reality it is just him thinking really hard and… well… technically, retreating into his mind. Palace.

I find myself doing the same, sometimes, although I’m sure that I’m not as smart as Sherlock and I know that my mind palace isn’t filled with facts… On the other hand, it’s full of magic, wizards, mythical creatures like unicorns and fairies, and it’s just absolutely wonderful.

Want to guess what my mind palace is?

It’s a summation of everything I’ve ever read. Everything.

If I read something, if I so as much finish a book, it means that I fell in love with it. Simply put, if I didn’t like the book, I didn’t finish it. So there. Everything that I’ve finished reading from front cover to back is stored inside my mind, and when I feel sad, overheated and angry at everything, I just… retreat. 

Before you say anything, I’m not talking about textbooks and all that crap, because WELL, I just said that I’ve finished reading from ‘front cover to back’, and I haven’t exactly finished a nursing or math book from front cover to back. 

Anyways, in my mind palace there are just so many wonderful things in there that I always wish, if I could, to stay there for the rest of my life. Of course, there’s Harry Potter, Hogwarts, and the Weasley Twins waiting to whisk me away. I have Tris Prior, Hermione Granger, Katniss Everdeen, three of the baddest bad-ass girls I have ever read about. I can always go to Camp Half-blood. If I need some fun, I can just look for Clary and Jace, who will hopefully take me on one of their Shadowhunter adventures. There are also tons of mysteries that need to be solved. And all the fantasy and science fiction books I’ve read make my mind palace full of superheroes, fairies, monsters, and aliens. 

So, it’s really hard to get bored in my mind palace.

Simply put, my mind palace is put there for a reason. I seem boring, and hardly humorous on the outside, but that’s only because my insides are full of rainbows and aliens. 

Sometimes, I wish I lived in my mind palace.

Chills, Thrills, and Screams.

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It was honestly one of the most terrifying movies I had ever heard of. Even before it was showing, I’m sure many were terrified by the convincing trailers that either solidified people’s intentions not to watch this movie, or encouraged movie buffs to save and wait in anticipation. Now, I’m not a big horror movie fan, but luckily, I was able to hold in my screams (well, okay, I didn’t) while I watched what some critics from Rotten Tomatoes and Screen Rant (both are groups of movie critics) call the ‘Scariest Movie of 2013’.

The Conjuring follows the true story of world-renowned ghost hunters, Ed and Lorraine Warren (Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga) as they take on one of their most horrifying case yet. The Perrons family, consisting of the husband and wife, their five daughters and a dog, move into a new house, which is shown to be teeming with malevolent spirits which are out to get the family in the worst way possible; death. When the issue of who’s haunting the Perrons is solved, the question remains: Will the Warrens be able to save them from this horror story?

It’s a Thumbs-Up for Me

The movie was a perfect blend of chills and plot, but what I loved the most is that the chills didn’t seem cheap or over the top. Everything seemed very real, from the possessions to the acting and the special effects. It had me spellbound from the very first part of the movie; even though it was a minor part of the film, it explained much how serious and real the Warren’s involvement with the paranormal is.

A personal favorite of the movie were the ‘Hide and Clap Game’ scenes. The said scene did a great job of creating goosebumps, and resulting in a bunch of screams from the audience. Although almost all of the scenes in The Conjuring are hair-raising and scream-inducing, The Hide and Clap Game is one you aren’t likely to forget that easily.

Tips on dealing with the paranormal… Or just this movie

I wouldn’t suggest watching this movie if you have heart or lung problems. No, I’m not joking. In my honest opinion, it was a tad terrifying for me, and despite the fact that I liked it, The Conjuring isn’t something I’ll be watching again any time soon. I also wouldn’t suggest watching this with younger children. In some countries, like the United States, The Conjuring earned an ‘R’ rating, since it was deemed to be ‘too scary for children’.

I also recommend watching this with friends. Even though I promised myself I’d get over this fear of horror movies and said that I’d watch it by myself, I just couldn’t.

From the viewpoint of one who doesn’t regularly watch horror movies, The Conjuring was just the right amount of scary, and was almost on the edge of being ‘borderline terrifying’. The Conjuring is a good, scary watch, and it’s one that will leave you at the edge of your seat… Or hiding behind a pillow.

Special thanks to those who came over watched this with me despite a last-minute notice. It was an honor to scream my lungs out with you. 

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