Because I was born and raised on the moon
My name is Aria Svetlana Markovitch and I was born and raised on the moon, but abandoned on earth in order to learn.
| To read the official sequel of Peter Pan...which is Peter Pan in scarlet...
Should be interesting to say the least. I find that I like the book far better then the cartoon, the disney version, or the people version. Peter Pan seems...so....selfish. Innocent, yes...charming yes...happy yes...but selfish, a coward, and oh so scared. And I like that. It seems everytime he goes out into the real world, this feelings assault him more. Or maybe, they just attacked him when Wendy came and pretended to be a mother.
Either way, when Wendy wasn't involved, he was happy and innocent, and....still selfish. I guess everything to him was a game. And he had such a short memory span. Able to forget people in mere minutes. Weird.
No wonder Captain Hook hated him. But then again, I have a feeling that captain hook was also ver jealous of him. Maybe Hook wanted that same fancy--to treat everything like a game and not have to worry about what people thought, or the consequnces of your actions.
All through out the book, he seemed so absorbed in good and bad form....he was obssessed with following things by the rules, to....in a sense be some type of a gentleman, and it seems to me that he longed for the freedom to let that go and enjoy himself like Peter. Cause make no mistake, because Peter treated everything like a Game, killing Pirates apparently, was ok to him. It wasn't WRONG--becuase it was a game. And because he was good and they were bad.
Sort of like a video game....you kill people in it...but its just a "GAME" I guess Peter treats it that way too.
It seems that he WANTS to have a mother a family--but he's so afraid of growing up that he's willing never to have that comfort. Because growing up, and realizing that everything IS'NT a game....would be.....awful to him I guess.
How weird am I? Heh I don't know if the writer wanted to imply those feelings...but I sure felt it that way But then again, thats the beauty of books---there are some things that are obvious...and then, there are other things which you can take however you want.
I personally want to write something....a novel I guess, from Hook's view all through out the book....how he hunted Peter, how he battled the indians, how he planned....how...DEPERATE he was to not only destroy Peter physically, but spiritually...and how happy he was, even as he was falling to his death, he took the pleasure that, instead of stabbing him as would have been good form, Peter kicked him...which was bad form....which didn't seem to phase Peter anyways....
| and this was cool...
I daydreamed that I sunk into the earth, and that I was able to swim among the dirt and rocks as if they where liquid. And I kept popping up in houses, almost...going through them,and I kept laughing at the peoples look of outrage and disbelief. And Final I ran down the road, as fast as I could....and then I just jumped into the air and started to float...then the cops came, and I started to soar higher and higher, and I just laughed at them and teased them...
and suddenly, 6 wings sprouted from my back, all a deep navy blue....and then I felt smaller wings sprout on top of them....until I had 12....
and then reality came crashing down
nice while it lasted
| Is it crazy to hear the stars twinkling? Is something wrong when you swear the moon answers your call when your falling asleep?
Honest to God, before I crawl into bed, when I look out my window for the moon...and I say this phrase.
"My name is Aria Svetlana Markovitch and I was born and raised on the moon, but abandoned on earth to learn how to adapt. But one day, when death comes calling, I'll once again be the girl on the moon"
Crazy? Probably. All during the day, I'm daydreaming. No joke. Always thinking of fantasies, always following characters around, always off in my own world. But here's the deal--I've learn to function. I can do work and daydream--and do my work pretty damn well. Wherever I go, my two backpacks of drawing utentils, sketchbooks, books, and notebooks follow me around. Never mind that they both weigh 15lb.I NEED to carry them around.
Not like I have a choice basically.
Anyways, after that, I talk to my imaginary friends on a notebook I dedicated to them, which is basicallty myself writing in different personas to kick me into shape. Shame on me, really....
Then I talk to my muses, and then I write, and draw, and daydream, and ponder what I want to do, and why some things in life are as they are...
I have no clue where this blog is going....
Ok...so...I don't get it.
From the moment one knows they have a bun in the oven, you start to freak out. Stressing out. Going over scenarios in your head.
9 months later, here comes baby....now the REAL stress begings. Sure, taking care of a newborn is hard, such is with a toddler and such. But the little stinkers grow up.
Honestly? I don't see it...yea, sure they bring joy, I can see that...but they also bring headaches, suffering, STRESS LOADS OF STRESS and overall heartbreak.
I don't see how the happy times outweigh the bad...I really don't.
I mean, honestly...I don't see it...I don't. So tell me parents....HOW does thegood outweigh the bad?...Why have kids?
| Who burned candles and brought shadows to the world, and while she looks so quiet in photographs, I'm curious as to what the stars say to her.
...Yea I don't know either...go Figrue
Seriously though. If stars could talk, would you listen? I think I would. They would have interesting stories to tell. Wouldn't they?
Tomorrow I'm probably going to write about Lewis Carroll...Reading "Sylvie and Bruno" a bit more...grown up then Alice but just as AWESOME. Serioulsy....his verses are great too, as his short stories...but the math *shudder* I HATE MATH!
| I was....what? Ten when I first visited a psychologist. It was for the whole family. I was angry, and....well I was angry at the world, so I probably made my parents feel guilty for things that were not even their fault, but at the time I didn't care. I liked the doctor though. She didn't pry--just listened....didn't wrap up common sense in a different package...just listened and gave advice which....sometimes worked. When I was willing to give it a shot.
Well, at the age of...19 we once again went in. New doctor. Again family sessions cause my brother has "issues" I just say hes a freaking drama queen who seriously needs to control himself.
I didn't like her.
She sounded like a broken record, and oh, she sounded like a high school counselor. "You're all so special! you're family is so special!"
Yea...woot! Shall we bring out the cheerleaders? Bring out the care bears?
I know I have a great family--but the way she said it made it sound cheap.
She said my sister acted out to call out for attention. DUH. Gee thanks for that. We OBVIOUSLY hadn't figured that one out.
That my brother was paranoid and anti social *GASP* NO?!REALLY?! Well la de da! Ain't that just a huge surprise?
And oh, and this got me laughing...that I always used pens, and pencils for drawing and writing because I was DESPERATE to get control of my life, and those instruments are easily to manipulate....
Um, no....they're just cheap and don't make a huge mess.
She also said that she sensed I was trying to hold on to my childhood, any piece of it, and thats why I enjoyed fairy tales still. She said I daydreamed to escape the harsh reality that is life.
Thanks, Sherlock. I had no clue. Really. Thanks for opening my eyes.
YEA I am trying to not lose my child like wonder and my child like pure imagination. Cause in a sense, I want to carry that with me forever. I don't want it gone.
YEA I daydream to take my mind off things. I've done this for as long as I can remember. Even now I like playing make believe and I like talking to myself and my characters, and I tell stories out loud. Thats fine. Cause after that, I'm more focused on what I'm supposed to do and I do a better job.
I know Psychology helps some people....kudos to that. Really. But for me...it just seems everything that women told me was common sense or nonsense wrapped up and decorated with shiny bows....
| We've all heard that saying before.
Day and Night--Darkness and light. Good and evil, blah, blah, blah, blah.
Its amazing though....how much...darkness a person represses or hides for fear.
Now, when I say "darkness" I'm not neccesarily talking about HUGE stuff like, wanting to be a murder and such. No I'm talking about things that may seem taboo, or even, secret pleasures that we have that can be embarassing. Stuff that we just shove into the closet where the light can't touch it.
It be so much easier if we could just be ourselves and not wear a mask that looks like us, but isn't us. But thats not the way we work is it? From childhood we are brainwashed to think a certain way, and its sometimes rather difficult to come out the other end. Or else, we fall into that peer preassure crap and we refuse to follow something our hearts want for fear of rejection.
Some people are stronger. Some do follow their hearts and are happy with that. Thats good. I both admire and envy such people.
I don't like shouting my desires to the world. Oh I voice them....indirectly. I've always been somewhat sheltered and I'm very used to keeping to myself. I don't like calling attention to myself. Which, I know I'll have to get over if I want to follow my dream of being a writer and an artist. There will be things I write or draw that may draw a crowd, good or bad. And I'll have to deal with it won't I?
Me, I'm trying to embrace the dark side. Cause really....I hate the sun anyways
If it was much choice...I'd forever want to live by the ocean, near some woods....always in moonlight
When I left High School, I was devasted. I heard stories. After all, I've never met an older person say "My friend from high school" it was almost always "My friend from College".
Plus, I mean, really....people where moving away to another state, another city, not far away, but far enough. And I knew...I would probably never see them again, or hear from them again. And I was...partially right.
I first got thise feeling when I performed my last show with the band. I cried. Because...deep down...already something felt missing, hollow, empty. When I looked at my friends I realized I would never again perform with them....EVER. And I had a feeling it be the last time doing that show--which I was right.
Since then, I started to feel....distanced. like I was watching everything through a telescope. I was trying to capture every moment, trying to save it, savor it. And then Graduation came. And can you believe I don't remember ANYTHING from that? I remember sitting down--hearing that damn song that I myself had played Freshman-junior year. I remember getting my diploma. I don't reacall the speeches--I recall hugging friends, family...and thats it. I don't recall the Festival of bands--in which we COULD have performed our show again. But most of the seniors and the drumline said they didn't want to do it--and I was and am so mad still. We didn't get to perform at Metro, because the drumline had to leave, and it would have sounded horrible....I practiced so much, and I finall had that song down!
Anyways, I'm getting to the point. The reason I focus so much on Band was because...thats where I had most of my friends, if not all. Thats where I connected with them, got to know them. We had so many great trips...and I was good...not great, but good enough, sometimes even better then average. And it was hard letting it go----because it only made me realize I would lose some friends.
In a sense, I lost them all. No more talking between us, except the occasional e-mail from myspace....like every 3 months. Some I write to, and they don't answer back. I'm cool with that. I just stop writing.
I missed them. I missed talking to them, missed laughing, missed being around them. The last bit of senior year, I did start feeling like a 3rd wheel with some of my friends, who, had formed a much tighter realtionship between them 4 of them, seeing as they would be going to U of O...and I'd be staying at PSU. I won't lie and say it didn't hurt--cause it did. But I understood. Its been....what? 6 months since we've talked...before, I wanted to be the one initiating the conversations. But, they always replied the same...and sometimes they didn't reply at all. So now I just check their blogs, make sure they're reasonably ok...and thats that. No e-mails, no "lets get together"....nothing.
Is it bad that I'm ok with this? Or is it good? Cause I've let it go, truly I have. Its great that they're ok. I miss them, sometimes...but I quickly get over it. No use dwelling on it. We had a friendship once upon a time....and everybody knows that Once Upon a time can be repeated in stories and movies countless times....
| Its a question every writer should ask themselves. WHY?
Is it for fun?
To let go of your emotions?
To express your ideas and beliefs? To defend them?
Why do I write?
I have always been facinated with books. Ever since I knew how to read. My favorite fairy was and still is "The Nutcracker Prince" I first read the ballet version, and fell in love with it. I loved and still love using my imagination. Even now, as I'm writing this blog entry I'm daydreaming. I daydream all day. Keeps me....happy.
Anyways--when I was 10, my family and I moved to Oregon. It was a fairly rough time, and tensions where high. We had to live with another family for a while, who...graciously gave one of their rooms to fit our 5 member family. For a while, things where ok....but then, a silly fight got out of hand, and for a while, we where confined to that room. I came home from school, and straight into that room. There was no TV, no toys, nothing. There was, I remember, a book on myths and fairy tales. So I started reading it, daydreaming, playing make believe. Soon, that wasn't enough. The stories I memorized quickly, and I needed new material...so I started to write.
At first, it was....the typical Mary Sue junk. Beautiful girl saves world/country/planet and gets the boy of her dreams. Heh then came the gothy, angsty, emo poetry when I was a teen....I destroyed all of those poems. THEY SUCKED.
I knew I wanted to write...I just never knew what...until I turned 16. Reading stories, I couldn't relate to any of the characters that well really. I liked them--they wheren't Mary Sues or anything--but I couldn't totally relate to them. And so, I once heard a quote "If There's a story you really want to read, but it hasn't been written yet--WRITE IT"
So I started writing short stories with characters I could relate to...and I people who read them, most of the time, said they totally understood what they where going through(my chracters) so...it made me...happy to see I other people could relate to this. Could relate to what I felt as well. Made me feel...not alone, or weird...ok...not too weird.
My writing style is more...of internal monolouges. I like doing this because...I have conversations with myself, my muses and "imaginary friends" all the time. It calms me down, helps get the creative juices flowing.
Also, I like writing about....people who are trying to "save" themselves. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for saving the world and helping those around you....but I think, one needs to take care of themselves first. All of my characters have flaws. They aren't super model pretty--average looking. They aren't that special in school, or sports. Maybe one. They don't get the girl/guy at the end.
I want my writings to reveal the characters, their believes, their internal battles--I want them to reveal everything. I've long learn that people hide so much of themselves, for fear of being shunned for being so different--and I want that, when they read about my character, I want them to relate to them, to know that "You know...there are other wolves out there in sheeps clothing--I'm not alone"
I also write to express my beliefs--my feelings about something. I won't lie--I put a little bit of myself in my characters. What writer doesn't?
A lot, if not all of my stories deal with growing up. Because I find that topic facinating--even more so, how different cultures and people, deal with it.
I write stories that I can relate to---I write stories to hopefully show people that they aren't alone in their weird quirks and closeted interests. I write to express myself.
Why do YOU write?
| STILL not sleeping well...the hell with it
I'm tired, and sleep through out the day, but there is work to do, so naps are out. I try and catch a nap in the evening at 7 or 8, but I can't. I start feeling sleepy at 11:30, but when I go to bed, all I can do is toss and turn, and be in a half state of sleep thats more bothersome then good....
Jeez Mr. Sandman, what did I do?