Thursday, 31 December 2009

Resolute or Ir-so?

I don't actually think that title sakes any mense. It was supposed to be clever and catching.

Didn't work. Failed miserably.

Just like my new year resolutions for 2009.


Out of the eight resolutions I made, about one and a half, or possible three-quarters, succeeded.

Let's review them, shall we?

Those that I followed through with:
-Solve a Rubiks Cube: I did a pretty good job on this one, I reckon. Got myself a $3 Rubik's cube from the 2 dollar shop, solved it. I can do it in less than 5 minutes easily.

Those that I semi-followed through with:
-Spend less time on the computer everyday: Kinda. I go through stages. Overall, though, I can spend less time on the computer if need be. It all depends on how much there is to do on Facebook.
-Vary the genres of my short stories, so as to stretch and improve my writing skills: The few short stories I have managed to write this year have been of quite different genres/styles. I didn't write many, though.

Those that failed miserably:
-Get a job: Tried...Kinda. I left the trying till near the end of the year, though...didn't particularly help anything. But I did try. A lot. I'm still trying, even. It's just that nothing has come up yet. I got another rejection letter just a couple of hours ago.
-Start playing a sport again and keep fit during the off-season: Yeah nah. Didn't happen.
-Plan, write, edit, rewrite, edit & edit one short story per month: About 2 or 3... Almost 12, right?
-Complete the first draft of at least one WIP: Far from.
-Complete a wasgij puzzle: Never got around to acquiring one let alone starting or finishing it.

So there you have it. Fail with a capital F.

One resolution remains. The "ultimate" one.

Become a better person than I am now, by being more of a friend and being "there" for my friends when they need me, changing my attitude towards others and life in general, being more patient with people, friends and most of all family, and reaching out to those who need a hand, friend, shoulder, or whatever it is they need, or finding someone who can give that. Also spend more time with God, and have a deeper relationship with him.

I guess I can't really answer for that one, can I? It's really up to everyone else. My friends. Have I, or have I not?

And there we have it. 2009 is almost over. Time has run out.

Therefore the answer to the question, I'm sure you've already guessed, is Ir-so. Very much Irresolute.

I confess, though, I didn't try very hard. Maybe next year.

Sunday, 13 December 2009

Truthful Lies

I was thinking earlier about what I should blog about today, and I remembered something my pastor mentioned in a sermon a couple of weeks ago. It's been bothering me since.

One of the comments he made was something along the lines of "...everything the devil says is a lie. So really when he says something you know the complete opposite is the truth." Those are not his words exactly, but it's the general idea.

Most people would just agree with that, as it seems true, and is in fact true in most cases, which is why I think it passed unnoticed. It wasn't a planned comment, just something he said in passing.

I don't think I agree with that entirely, however. Recently having memorised stuff for my exams, the quotes for English are still well and truly stuck in my mind. One of these quotes, from the director's commentary for Breach, came to mind not long after my pastor said this.

"The most convincing lies are always rooted in some kind of truth."

This was applied to a particular piece of dialogue from the movie. I reckon that it is very true. In fact, I believe the same can be applied to the devil and his lies. The most convincing, most believable lies spoken by the devil will have just enough truth in them so that you don't realise that it's anything but true until it's almost too late. He's had thousands of years of experience--more than enough to be able to fool us humans any day. We're quite a gullible species, really.

So instead of just saying that everything is a straight lie (even the devil recognises some truths), we need to be discerning and able to separate the truth from the lies. Not just in this case, either. In everyday life it is the same.

How many times have you been fooled by a truthful veneer over a big fat lie? I know I have countless times.

Friday, 4 December 2009

Write then, let's get to it!

Must. Write.

Write. Write. WRITE!

Yes, that's write. I need to get in to some heavy writing my friends. My mind is just itching to get going and get some serious words out on to paper. It's time for some storytelling.

But I need your help. I want to kick it off with some Flash Fiction to get my brain into gear.

WAIT! They scream. What the heck is Flash Fiction?

Flash Fiction is a very vague term, but in general it is a short piece of fiction written in less than 1000 words, able to be easily written and read in one go.

Ah. Say the people. Go on then.

I don't just want to write any old story, however. I want to write something for you. For everyone. How will I do this? It's easy. You tell me what to write and I'll write it.

Comment on this blog post, each and every one of you, with some basic details listed below. (If you don't know how to comment, simply click on the link directly below this post that says [# Comments], where # is the number of comments.)

I need at least the first 5 main details, then if you want you can also specify a couple of other optional details that follow.

Here they are:


Main details:

1) The full name of the main character (and if it is a male or female, just to be safe).

2) The time period the story is set in. Choose either Past, Present or Future. If past or future, give a relative time for me to go by (ie. 1479/2305 or 1600s/2300s).

3) The location. Give either [City, Country] or just [Country]. Feel free to make up one or both of these, but if it is a made up place then be sure to specify this.

4) The first word of the story. Be random, be creative!

5) A one sentence summary of the plot (what the story is about). It doesn't matter how detailed or vague it is, I don't care. Anything from "A man rides a bike." or "A man builds a house." to "A middle aged white male trains for one of the biggest bike races in the country, then goes on to do this race and come third, thus proving that anything is possible if you put your mind to it." will do, so long as it isn't any of those ideas I just said. There are no limits or restrictions, be as boring or creative or imaginative as you like.


Optional details:


6) The tense the story is written in. Choose either Past or Present.

7) The POV (point of view) of the story. Choose either First or Third person.


Originally I was going to pick just one of the ideas and write it, but I've decided that in fact I'll write all of them. Whether it be 7, 77 or even 777 ideas, I will not rest until the last story is finished. So throw as many ideas as possible at me. If you've got more than one idea, give me both or all of them. There is no limit. Give me all you've got. Push me as hard as you can until the bones in my hands are about to crumble.

Now that I have signed my life away (or so it would seem), I shall go and enjoy the last of my freedom.

Thursday, 3 December 2009

The Silent Conflict

A couple of nights ago I was watching 60 Minutes whilst doing the dishes. The first section was on a topic I bet you weren't expecting to read about in this here blog of mine.

Male infertility.

Woah. I bet you're thinking.

Why the heck is going to talk about that? You're probably wondering.

I've actually probably put you off my blog entirely. But hey, it's on my mind. This is my mind. If you knew everything that went on in my mind you'd be more than a little freaked out.

First let me summarise the point of the feature.

Apparently New Zealand males have the lowest fertility rate in the world (meaning that it's hard to have kids, in case you don't know what that means). And it's only getting worse. Without going into details, largely cos I'm really not entirely sure of what the heck it all means, basically a heck of a lot of young couples who are trying to and want to have kids just don't seem to be able to--some even after several years of trying! Why this is, we have yet to discover.

Although I'm sure you're content with what I've given you so far, that actually is not the reason for this blog. At least, not all of it.

What really gets to me is that there are so many couples out there who are trying desperately to get pregnant, and just can't. It totally and completely sucks for them. They'd give practically anything to have a kid or two of their own.

Yet on the other side of things, thousands of babies a legally killed every year in New Zealand. I believe the amount lies somewhere around 18,000. I could sugar-coat it and call it the common name, abortion, but it's murder. It's wrong.

Whether you agree with me on this point or not, surely you can all see the slight dilemma we have here. Why is it that those who don't want to get pregnant do, and those would want to so badly just can't? Especially for those trying, it must be incredibly painful to not be able to have the gift of children, when so many are just being killed off every day, unwanted. It's not fair. At all. It makes me mad.

Who gave us the right to decide who gets to live and who must die before they are even born? Everyone argues left, right and centre about this issue all the time, yet the only people who never get a say are the little children who's lives are in the balance. It's not right.

There are many things about society that I don't agree with, but most of all right now, there is one huge issue that just won't stop nagging me.

It's the silent conflict that no one seems to be speaking up about.

How come there are so many miserable couples, unable to get kids of their own in any way, yet there are so many thousands of unborn children killed every year?

Sunday, 29 November 2009

The Return from the Future

Greetings to all!

Life has come back to The Contradictory Paradoxical Oxymoron at last. It has been a quiet few weeks, I know. I failed to keep to my "at least one blog a week" policy. Oh, the shame...

There's a good explanation, though.

You see, about a month ago, the government approached me with a top secret mission, the details of which I cannot expose to you. The gist of it, however, was for me to be sent to the future using their discreetly developed time machine (located in a hidden dungeon several stories below the Beehive) so that I could use my advanced skills and knowledge to save our beloved country from a terrorist attack so extreme that the country [would have] disappeared without a trace, to the depths of the ocean.

Uh...oops. I just told you everything. Oh well, too late now. I'll just get my contacts to change my identity after I've finished with this.

Anyway, as I was saying... All went well, the world was saved, and it was time to come home. However, one of the technically inept morons hired by the government as a Time Technician stuffed up during the initial programming and I was sent back here, about three weeks ahead of when I left. As a result, you unlucky people have had to miss out on these life changing blogs of mine. (Blame the government.)

But never fear, for this post marks the resurrection of the weekly blog. You may all stop panicking now. I have also been told that I must make up for those missed blogs. In the week ahead, I shall do just that.

Watch this space.

Sunday, 1 November 2009

And the point is...

I was going to write about something completely different, and way more deep, than what I am about to say, but this random thought popped into my mind today, so I have delayed the deeper blog until next week.

What is the point?

It's October 31st. People are coming to our door every so often. All over the world kids are walking along the streets, all dressed up, asking for lollies and other such stuff. Most people just hand it over.

The question remains: What is the point?

I just don't get it. There is absolutely no reason whatsoever for kids to be going around asking for lollies and junk food once every year. They expect it. People give it.

Why?

It's beyond me. Why do people just willingly go out and buy heaps of junk food year after year, to just hand out to random kids they've never met and probably won't ever meet again, just for the heck of it?

I don't quite understand it. I don't get it at all, actually.

Please, someone, enlighten me.

Sunday, 25 October 2009

The Duplicity of the Horde

Having spent the majority of my day working on my 1000 word English research essay, on dualism in To Kill a Mockingbird (a novel) and Breach (a film), I have been thinking a heck of a lot about the ideas of dualism and hypocrisy. I have decided that I shall share some thoughts on this with you.

To start off, lets get some definitions from my good friend Dictionary.com.

Hypocrisy (noun) - a pretense of having a virtuous character, moral or religious beliefs or principles, etc., that one does not really possess.

Horde (noun) - a large group, multitude, number, etc.; a mass or crowd: a horde of tourists.

Dualism (noun) - the state of being dual or consisting of two parts; division into two.

So in other words, a hypocrite says one thing and does another, a horde is a large crowd (so basically a fancy word for a lot of people), and a dualist is someone who's life (or part of it) is split into two contradicting parts (most often their stated beliefs and their actually actions).

I would absolutely love to sit here and say to you that I am not, have never, and will never be a hypocrite in any way, shape or form. But that would be one very large lie. No one goes through life never once being a hypocrite on some level, or without practising dualism in some area of there life at some stage.

Without thinking it, people practise dualism all the time. The most common form being that they proclaim to believe one thing, yet their actions show another. I'm sure you don't need examples to know what I'm talking about. Everyone has done it.

You may be wondering what my point is. Well, I don't have one. Not exactly.

No one likes it when people do such things as say one thing and do another. No one wants to admit it when they do. You generally don't plan on doing it either.

I've done it. Many times. I wish I didn't, but hey, I'm not perfect. I'm sorry to say that you aren't, either.

Now, I'm going to make a generalisation. I don't like generalisations, in general, but I'm going to anyway.

In general, I'd say that most people these days are dualists. Quite a few do it to large extents. It seems that everyone these days claims to believe one thing, but in secret do another. It makes me wonder just what is real, what is truth.

So without going to incredible depth today, I just want to challenge you. Are you real? Do you live what you proclaim to believe? Think about it for a while.

Sunday, 18 October 2009

Radioactive Martians

Here we have what is commonly referred to as a Martian. Yes, this is not your stereotypical Martian, it is in fact Marvin, the cartoon. I'm sure you'll get over it though.

And then we have the Rutherford model, the common symbol of the atom and all things Atomic these days.
He has finally lost it. You say.

Not really. My mind has just been taken over my Radioactive Martians over the past week.

As we said. Lost it.

Wait, wait, wait... Let me explain.

I've been reading this silly book called War of the Worlds, in which Martians come to Earth from, well, Mars. It's not a bad book, but it's also not the best. It could do with some more dialogue and stuff along those lines. But I've read worse books. Much worse books.

Then today I've been writing an essay for Physics on the historical development of our understanding of the atom and other such boring stuff such as applications of nuclear radiation and the changes this has made to human life. My mind is exploding... or at least getting poisoned by this deadly stuff.

Thus I am forced to conclude that my mind has in fact been taken over by Radioactive Martians.

I see them in my dreams. They're miniature creatures. I see them crawling through my head. My dream world is quite an interesting one now, as you can probably guess.

As I walk around I try to shoot things with the heat-ray.

Plants wither from the radiation I give off.

I sometimes think I have three legs.

Instead of getting tired I begin to decay.

The list goes on. These creatures are multiplying, slowly making me into one of them. More so every day.

I call for the ban of boring and pointless essays in school.

I call for a ban on forced reading of boring books at school.

I'm living proof of how this and other such lethal schooling things can infect your mind and do permanent damage.

Well, not really. And it's never going to happen.

But I can dream, can't I?

Sunday, 11 October 2009

The invasion of arachibutyrophobia

It was chaos. People were running everywhere. Screams of terror escaped the mouths of civilians of all ages.

Greetings!

For many years the people of Peanutville had savoured their special Peanut Butter.

As many of you know, I love words. They are totally and completely awesome.

The taste was incredible.

They're even as cool as numbers. That's saying something; I find numbers fascinating.

It smelled delicious.

Every once in a while I come across a word of utmost amazingness. I have a whole digital Post-It dedicated to these.

Whether it be chunky or smooth, everyone loved it.

I would like to share with you one of these today.

Money was worthless here. They traded in jars of Peanut Butter.

It is one of those words you wouldn't assume to be of existence.

They lived it, breathed it. It was their life.

I especially love words like that; strange ones which most people pass through life without ever hearing of.

Then one day, a man appeared. He had a phobia so terrible that it tipped the town upside down.

Honestly, who would have thought that there was a word so odd as this?

For reasons unknown, another person got it. Then another. Then another. It wasn't contagious, but the horror of such a thing seemed to mentally affect one person at a time, until ever last citizen had it.

Arachibutyrophobia.

The fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of your mouth.

Sunday, 4 October 2009

Hop and Croak

Hop. Hop. Hop.


Ribbit. Croak.

They're pretty awesome little creatures, are they not? What are awesome? You may ask. If you do (ask, that is) then there is no hope for you! None whatsoever! By now it should be fairly obvious this blog is about frogs. If the hopping and croaking didn't tip you off, one would assume the picture of the frog would have. I may be random every so often--okay, maybe a bit more than that--but most people would see a frog and assume you're talking about frogs. Kinda sakes a little mense, doesn't it?

Anyway, where were we? Ah, yes. Awesome.


They're just frogs. You may say, once more. And you're completely, 100 percent... wrong! (Admit it, you totally thought I was going to agree with you there for a moment, didn't you? Ha! I tricked you!) Just look at that photo above; they're some of the coolest looking creatures on earth! There are so many different species of frogs that their looks can vary quite a bit, but almost all of them are just so... cute. I cannot believe I just said that, but... I really can't think of any better word to describe it.

They like to play hide-and-go-seek, too, apparently.


That picture did make me laugh. Frogs are pretty awesome, aren't they?

Hop. Hop. Croak. Hop...

If you ever get the chance to be around literally hundreds of frogs in a small area at the same time, you'll also notice just how loud they can be. A chorus of croaks. It's actually a pretty cool sound. Frogs are pretty cool. :)

They can jump pretty far, too. After some quick Googling I discovered that one of the longest frog jumps on record was 33 feet 5.5 inches. That's approximately 10 metres 20 centimetres! Woah! That is an incredible distance for such a tiny creature.

Apparently their eyes can have a range of different pupils, too. Round, vertical, horizontal and heart-shaped. Also some frogs have just two pupils, while others have three or four!

Now, come on, you have to admit it. Frogs are super-epically awesome little creatures. One of the few creatures I actually like! If you happen to have some time on your hands, be sure to Google frogs. There's tonnes of amazing (and actually interesting) information out there on them. You'd be surprised how much there is to know about them.

Wednesday, 30 September 2009

Top Five Wishlist

Do not ask me why, for I don't know. For some reason beyond me I felt the urge to create this list. Here it is. The top five things on my wish list.

Thousand Foot Krutch's latest album, Welcome to the Masquerade. I wanted it the moment I heard of it and heard the track "Bring Me To Life" which I obtained for free download from their website much before the release of this album. That song is incredible, and from what I've heard on Facebook, Twitter and the world in general, it is one of the best, if not the best rock album of the year. I can't wait to get my hands on this. If only I could find the money...


The 3 A. M. Epiphany - Uncommon Writing Excercises That Transform Your Fiction by Brian Kiteley. I heard about this book in Kevin Kaiser's blog. He has mentioned it a couple of times, and it seems like a very good and helpful book for writers. I would love to have this! It would do wonders for me to improve and stretch my writing. Oh how I wish I could add this to the collection on bookshelf. It would certainly get used a lot!

Ah, yes. The book that invaded my Twitter, Facebook, website and even this here blog. You probably want to hear no more of this story ever again! However I must bring it up one more time. It is the story I long to read most right now. The beginning and the end of the circle series... Book Zero.... Green. On top of that, I have not read any Ted Dekker in such a long time... I am beginning to go mad... No, wait, I already was. Either way, I need more Dekker! In particular, Green... Book Zero of the circle series...


Keeping with the Ted Dekker theme (yes I'm obsessed, I know) I give you the Circle Pendant. You guessed it, straight out of the Circle Trilogy. If I had this I would wear it like every single day.


Lastly, and most expensive and thus furthest away, is the Logitech 5.1 surround sound speakers for my bed room. Not the lounge, no. My bedroom. That way I can turn my new Thousand Foot Krutch CD right up and blast the neighbours out of their house. Or I could try Underoath... I don't think they'd appreciate that at full volume! Bottom line: My laptop speakers simply don't do some music justice. I need another 6 to plug into it...

There you have it. The list could go on forever, but there is my top five.

Sunday, 27 September 2009

Awesome plans and STOP

Plans. Mountains of them. Everywhere: my computer; cell phone; that incredible place called my mind. Post-Its on my desk, computer, in my bag, on the wall... everywhere you could (and couldn't) possibly imagine. They are the single most awesome piece of stationary. I love them! Post-Its are just the best. I could go on about them for a whole blog, but that's really not the point. The point is this: I have ideas and plans everywhere. Truckloads of them. Stored in almost every way, shape, form and place.

I'm a planner.

There are a lot of things I plan to do and be. These things change every once in a while. Every so often I come up with new plans. Ditch old ones. I could spend literally hours, days, planning, refining, working out details. I enjoy it (most of the time) and can't wait to see these plans unfold. It excites me.

I have heaps of awesome plans.

STOP

How is it then that I don't seem to ever move anywhere? I'm stuck in a continuous limbo, forever unmoving as if time stands still. But it doesn't. Oh, no. Time keeps flying by. It is I who stands still.

Sometimes I wish I wasn't a planner. I wish that I was a doer. Forget the plans, things will come together by themselves. We can work out the details as we move along. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. I am like that, in some respects. But not most of the time. It would be nice if it was the other way around.

I spend hours planning, but for the most part those plans never see the light of day. To take something from a plan to reality is incredibly hard for me. It's easier said than done. It also takes not being so lazy. That would be one of the main things preventing these plans from being executed.

Sometimes things just need to planned less, done more. That is the case for most things, I think. The problem is that you can always plan more, and so things get planned and planned and planned, as they're never quite perfect. Being a perfectionist (oh how I wish I wasn't) this means that it will never be fully planned. This presents quite a problem.

So the conclusion I have come to is this: Plan less, execute more. It's not exactly rocket science. Then why is it so difficult? Who knows. If I want to get out of limbo, I need to start doing things. I can still plan them, I just need to focus on the doing more than the planning.

It can't be that hard, can it?

Saturday, 19 September 2009

Caterpillars, worms and other such random stuff

Come to think about it, I don't think I've actually seen a caterpillar in a heck of a long time. I honestly cannot remember when I last saw one. Quite sad indeed.

Nor have I read The Very Hungry Caterpillar in a long time. I must go and find it after I finish this blog; It's one of the greatest books on Earth! If you haven't read it before, you're missing out greatly. Go find it. Every half decent book store sells it.



Worms however are creatures I could very easily live without seeing. Funny how they're the ones I see all the time. They're not always bad though, they make for epic computer games! Oh how I wish I had it; the clone I have isn't anywhere near as good as the original.

Why the heck is he going on about caterpillars and worms? You may ask.

The answer, to be completely and truly honest with you, is this: I have absolutely no idea. It just happens to be the thing that came to mind when I sat down to write this blog. Isn't my mind a wonderful place?

As of yesterday afternoon, I am exactly half way through my exams. Two down, two to go. I have approximately three days to learn everything I need to know for Maths; four for Physics. Oh how I'm dreading the Physics exam. I should really be studying right now, but I really cannot be bothered. After all, I have three whole days till my next exam! That's why I'm not studying but rather sitting in front of my computer writing a blog about worms and caterpillars and other such random stuff.

Continuing on the said topic of randomness, let me take this opportune moment to introduce you to a video of pure awesomeness that has made me laugh a thousand or more laughs. It's great. It's short. You should watch it. If you have the same somewhat weird sense of humour as me, you'll love it. Check it out.


Now moving on to even more exciting news, The Seed are playing at the Powerstation in Auckland tonight, in the Rockquest Finals!

The Seed: Stefan, Dylan, Ben, Chad, Thomas, Canaan.

It's going to be super-epically awesome. I'm going. You should, too! But if you can't make it, be sure to watch C4 tonight at something like 6:00pm. I can't actually remember the specific time. Oh well. You're clever; I'm sure you'll work it out. Also, check out their MySpace, Facebook and Bebo. Yeah. They're awesome. Honestly. Come see for yourself!

Our time has now come to an end for yet another week.

...and everyone breathes a sigh of relief. It's over. Finally!

That would be one of the reasons for bringing this to a close, yes. I'm fairly sure I've sufficiently bored you all to death enough for today. I'll let you go and do something interesting now.

Ciao!

Sunday, 13 September 2009

Procrastination is a stupid idea


It is. Trust me. I'm quite the expert on it.

Procrastinate (verb): to put off till another day or time; defer; delay.

It doesn't make sense. All it brings is stress and late nights upon oneself, and in some cases even affects others around said person. It achieves nothing. It is, in fact, a pretty stupid idea.

I must confess, I am one of the world's worst procrastinators. The amount of late nights I have had on the night before a deadline this year alone I have lost track of. Yes, I work well under pressure. In fact, some of my best work is produced the night before a deadline, when the pressure is highest. However, I still don't like it. It's rather pointless.

I want to destroy it. Tear it limb from limb. That's easier said than done, though. I try. Or I say I try. I've been saying all year that I'm going to stop procrastinating on everything. Finally, this term, I've managed to make a very tiny little step in that direction. Not enough to make a difference, though.

How does one kill the giant beast known as procrastination? Is it even possible?

In order of last to first I shall try to answer those two questions.

Yes.

I have no idea.

Oh, sorry, you wanted me to give a little more detailed answers?

Yes. How much more detail can you give to that question? It is, after all, a yes/no question. The answer to which, it yes. It is in fact entirely possible. Just rather difficult.

Where to start, how to stop procrastinating... That is a difficult one. One that I think is easier answered after it has been successfully completed by myself. Which means you shall have to wait until then to find the answer, I'm afraid, for I do not know what it is.

All I can say right now is that it is easier, much easier, said than done. To break such a habit as procrastination is incredibly difficult, especially when it is deeply ingrained in you after many years of practise. But don't despair, eventually you will make it.

By my reckoning the easiest way to do so is to set deadlines much earlier than necessary, giving you much time to refine whatever it is you would normally procrastinate on. You must also believe in yourself, believe that is is possible and that you can do it. And you must try. Not just try, but really try. Hard. In fact, the word "try" shouldn't even be part of it. More like, you must do it.

Many people have heard me say this before. In fact, most of you probably won't even believe me. But I am going to slay the beast of procrastination. I'm going to do it. I'm not just going to try, I'm going to do it.

But I can't do it alone. No one can. To attempt such a feat as this is worthless if there no one else believing in you and helping you. You need someone to support you through it, and beat you up when you need it. Find someone. Don't get me wrong, you shouldn't completely rely on this person: You have to put in as much effort as humanly possible yourself. But they are just as vital as everything else I've mentioned.

So there you have it. I guess I gave some advice on how to do it after all.

Now to apply it. I'm going to give it all I've got.

I encourage you to do so, too.

Together let's slay this beast once and for all!

Sunday, 6 September 2009

How I Waste My Time

Sometimes I wonder just how much more stuff I would get done if I didn't waste so much time.

And I do waste a lot of it! Hours. Every day. Facebook, Twitter, stalking my favourite bands and authors all over the net... the list goes on. Just imagine how much more stuff I could get done if I didn't waste so much time on all this stuff! It's pointless. It's a waste of time. It's totally not worth it.

Facebook. Oh, if I knew just how many hours I have wasted on this site... I'm sure I spend at least an hour or two on Facebook every day. Multiply that by the hundred or so days I've had it, that's like 150-200 hours! Just imagine HOW MUCH other stuff I could have achieved, stuff that had a point, if I never went on Facebook!

It's not just normal Facebook, either. No. Once I've finished with Facebook, I move onto some of the hundreds of games that are on Facebook! I've wasted a heck of a lot of time on both Mafia Wars and Farmville especially.



And the bigger and better I get, the more I can do, and the more time I waste. Soon enough, I will never have time to do anything else, because I need to go on Facebook. I need to play Mafia Wars. I need to play FarmVille... Oh, how I waste my time!


Yet another way I waste my time is on this certain stalker-ish site called Twitter. As of yet I have failed to find the point. I think that is one of the things that appeals to me. It's complete lack of point. It's pointless. I do love pointless things. They waste so much time, though!

At present I generally get at least a couple of hundred text messages a day. I know, I'm pretty freakin' popular, aye? The sad thing is that they're all either from Twitter or Facebook. I get excited every time I receive a real text now. My sad little life.

I love reading everything even remotely connected to my favourite authors. Bands, too, but not quite as much. Either way, that all can take up a lot of time, too. Not quite as pointless as Facebook and Twitter. But still a bit of a waste when done as excessively as I do.

I really do waste so much time.

Imagine how much I could have written in the amount of time I've wasted on all these things? Imagine just how much I could have achieved in all this time? Hundreds of a hours this year alone... I really do waste a lot of time.

So I've decided that I'm going to spend my time doing much more productive things. No, I'm not going to stop Facebook altogether. Or Mafia Wars or Farmville or Twitter. I'm just going to spend less time on these things, and more time on other things, things that matter slightly more, things that aren't such a waste of time.

What about you? How much time do you waste? How do you waste it?

Sunday, 30 August 2009

Simply a combination of letters

As I was sitting here, pondering what to write in my blog this week, I thought about something that has been on my mind a lot over the past two days.

Words.

By themselves, they look just like what they are: a bunch of letters, put together in various combinations to produce a certain meaning. A single word by itself, however, rarely has much of a meaning or an effect.

However, two or more words put together in just the right (or wrong) way, can have incredible power. The effect can be something beyond, well, words.

Remember that saying, "Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can never hurt me"? The way I see it, that couldn't be more wrong.

Words are not simply a meaningless combination of letters. They have the power to make or break someone. At the end of the day, whether it is intentional or not is beside the point. They will go on and do their thing whether you meant them to or not. The potential words have to affect someone, either in a good or bad way, is something I don't think many people understand. Myself included.

So what exactly is your point? You may ask.

My point is this: Be careful. Be intentional.

Make.

Whether you're good with words or not so good, you have the power to make people with your words. Intentionally go out of your way to build them up. Encourage them. Tell them how much you love them. It's not rocket science. But unfortunately, it also doesn't come naturally to a lot of people. (Again, myself included.) A single comment, text or email to a friend (or even someone you don't know that well) could make someone's day. It could help them to have the strength to finish something. There are endless opportunities. Try it sometime. Believe it or not, you'll probably find that building others up will do the same for you.

Imagine if everyone did this to everyone else, everyday. The world would be a much better place, don't you think?

Break.

Now, try not to misunderstand me here. I'm not saying that you should intentionally break someone. Not at all. What I'm saying now is quite the opposite (as it should be, considering make and break are, in fact, the opposite to each other).

That one sentence, that one combination of words (which are themselves a combination of letters), could cut so deep if you're not careful. It may not be intentional, but that won't make it hurt any less. Words have the potential to easily break, completely crush, someone you care about deeply. So you have to be so very careful. I can't stress enough how important it is that you think properly before saying something. Because the next thing you know, one seemingly harmless sentence made up of the wrong combination of words, at the wrong time, could have a very hurtful impact on someone you love.

Trust me. You don't want that to happen.

The Crafter.

You are the crafter. No matter who you are, you take words and craft them into sentences everyday. The trick is to craft them properly, so that they make, not break, the person or people they are being crafted for.

If you are a writer, you do this more than others, in which case you must think about how to craft them to properly communicate what you are trying to get across. This is of utmost importance, because if you craft them in the wrong way, your works could have a hugely different effect.

But it is no less important for those who are not writers. In everyday life you must think about what you are saying. Emails, texts, speaking in person, on the phone... the list goes on. You use words and sentences everyday. You must intentionally craft your words to uplift people, encourage them, help them along with their daily lives. Even more importantly, you must try very hard to not craft them in the wrong way, because the results could be disastrous.

Remember--Everything you say or write is not simply a combination of letters. Every combination has layers of meaning. It is how you craft those letters into words, words into sentences, that defines what you are saying. You have the power to make or break someone.

Use it wisely.

Monday, 17 August 2009

Storytelling, mushrooms and falling off the edge of the universe.

Scratching on the walls, jumping, frantically reaching, I manage to gain a hold on the edge and clamber out of the hole, resurfacing in the Word of the Contradoxymoron.

Boo.

(This is the part where you scream "Ah!")

You heard it here first.

I'm back. Ready to take on anyone who dares to come between me and conquering the blogging world. (Okay, so I may not be that extreme, but you get the point.)

The point? What point? They ask.

The point. Hands them a pencil. I sharpened it this morning. Feel it!

As you can probably tell, my mind can't wait to get writing again. It's so desperate that I can barely write a normal blog.

Shut up! I'm normal.

Yes, I AM!

I can be normal if I want to be.

Why, you... I'll, I'll... Notices all the people staring blankly at him with open mouths.

Clears throat. Yes, well, moving right along...

As you have probably noticed, it has been a very long time since I last blogged a true blog. I know some of you have greatly affected by this. But never fear, that period of suffering is now over. For I am back.

From this week onwards, I plan to blog at least once a week. I know, you've heard that before. But this time I'm going to. If I don't, something tells me I'll be...inconvenienced...at school. Eyes dart around suspiciously.

On top of that, after reading one of Kevin Kaiser's blog posts last week, I have decided that starting today I'm going to spend a certain amount of time every day simply writing. Whether it be on one of my novels or a short story is beside the point. It doesn't matter. What matters is that I write. So that's what I'm going to do. Write. Wish me luck.

On the subject of writing, there is approximately 45 days until I find out if I won the Katherine Mansfield Awards or not. Dreams. That would be super-epically awesome! Dreams again. Although that is highly unlikely, considering the fact that I wrote my story the night before the deadline. Dreams more. There's no harm in hoping, though! 45 days to go...

Speaking of mushrooms, did you know that the word "blog" is not in this dictionary? I'm writing this blog post on Blogger, a site which only has blogs, and the word blog is not in it's dictionary. A little red line is underneath every instance of the word as I type this!

Oh, and UNDEROATH IS COMING TO PARACHUTE 2010! I'm so excited! I can't wait! It's going to be so freakin' awesome. :D

To cut a long story short, there is but 47 minutes left for me to do anything I need or want to do tonight, so I regret to inform you that this blog post is now abruptly ending. But hey, at least it ended a good note. (Please tell me you get that...)

And so it ends. Let there be many more blogs to come.

And so it begins. Off I go to write some more.

Tuesday, 4 August 2009

Green Video

Check out this awesome preview video on Green!

Thursday, 23 July 2009

Green

Black. Red. White.

Three epic books known as the Circle Trilogy.

You thought it was over, did you?

Well it's not.

I give you Book Zero: GREEN.

At Last . . . The Circle Reborn

The story of how Thomas Hunter first entered the Black Forest and forever changed our history began at a time when armies were gathered for a final battle in the valley of Migdon. Green is a story of love, betrayal, and sweeping reversals set within the apocalypse. It is the beginning: the truth behind a saga that has captured the imagination of more than a million readers with the Books of History Chronicles.

But even more, Green brings full meaning to the Circle Series as a whole, reading as both prequel to Black and sequel to White, completing a full circle. This is Book Zero, the Circle Reborn, both the beginning and the end. The preferred starting point for new readers . . . and the perfect climax for the countless fans who've experienced Black, Red, and White.


Let the countdown begin.

To find out more about Green, go here: http://www.teddekker.com/green
(To help me out, please comment on this post saying you've visited this link.)

Also, for exclusive discounts and information on Green, visit http://teddekker.com/readgreen. As a bonus, when you sign up on the site and enter the number 4969 under where it says "Your Friend's Forest Guard Number", you'll help me get a little closer to winning an awesome prize. (Your help is very much appreciated.)

Wednesday, 15 April 2009

To Disappear (a short story--unedited)

Note: This story is a different style to what I usually write, and thus took a lot longer and may not make a lot of sense. I have tried to put things together properly, however it was quite difficult and I'm sure that there may be parts that are (or even the entire story may be) hard to understand. Sorry about this. I hope that you will be able to interpret the theme and ideas behind it.

Please feel free to express any improvements that could be made, point out things that you weren't able to follow or comprehend, and just give feedback in general. (Also note that it has not been edited--I only just finished writing it.)

As always, constructive criticism is welcomed and appreciated.



“It's a boat!”
“Yes, it is a boat. But how do you spell boat?”
“Uh...Um...” Ben thought for a moment. “B...o...t?” Some kids sitting next to him giggled between themselves. He went bright red.
Mr. James frowned. “No, that's not it.” Ben's shoulders sunk low. “But it's almost right,” He encouraged. “Try again.”
The classroom went quiet.
“B...b...o...t...” Ben grew even more embarrassed. As the silence lengthened, some of the other kids started to snicker at him.
He simply wanted to crawl into a hole and hide.

“Move it!” A boy who was slightly younger than Ben, but taller, pulled him down from the first step as he was getting onto the bus. He fell, grazing his elbow on the concrete. Everyone around him started laughing. He stood up, then, after everyone else near him was on the bus, he got on and sat in the seat right at the front. As the bus pulled out on to the road, Ben's mind drifted, as he slowly withdrew into himself.

-----

Ben dribbled the ball up the court and shot at the basket. The ball whooshed through without hitting the backboard. He ran to the ball, picked it up and started dribbling it back down the court to shoot again. He decided to shoot from the halfway line and aimed, shot, and got an easy three-pointer. As he ran back up to collect the ball, a voice called out from the stands.
“Oh, stop showing off already, Ben!”
Reaching the ball, Ben picked it up and whirled around. “Hey, I can't help it if I'm so good,” He shrugged, “I guess that's just how I am.”
With a smile on his face, the boy rolled his eyes and ran down to Ben.
“What you up to, Ed?” Ben asked as they clapped each other on the back.
“Aw, not much. Was just wandering by and thought I would stop and watch for a while.”
“How long you been up there for?”
“Long enough to decide to come down here and put a stop to this. Your ego is getting bit too big. Thought I would come pull it back down.”
“That right? Show me, then.” Ben turned and shot the ball through the hoop, about 20 metres away.
“You're on.” Ed ran down to grab the ball and dribble it back up the court a little.
“Keep going...”
After three perfect shots, Ben said “Not bad, but I noticed that they were all inside the halfway line.”
“How about some one-on-one then, bro?”
“Okay. First to 30?”
Ed nodded in response. About 15 minutes later, Ben scored a three-pointer, taking the game at 30-27.
“Fine. I'll say it,” Said Ed, noticing the huge grin on Ben's face, “You're better. This time. I'm a little unfit at the moment, you know.”
“Haha as if. You say that every time.”
“Yeah...hey, I better go home, aye, mate. Mum'll be annoyed if I turn up late for tea again.”
“See you around.”
“Yeah.”
Ben shot a few more hoops, then decided that he had had enough for the day and was just picking up his bag to start heading home when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He spun around.

-----

“This is your stop, isn't it?” The girl sitting behind him on the bus asked.
Snapping back to reality, Ben looked out the window and quickly jumped up and ran off the bus.
“Looser!” He heard a boy yell out the window as the bus drove on down the road.
He took a deep breath and sighed loudly. Why did everyone have to pick on him all the time? He had never had any friends before. No one wants to be friends with dumb kids. Or retards, as most people called him. He was what you call a “slow learner”.
The girl on the bus was probably the first person to ever talk nicely to him before, and without calling him names. He had never seen her until recently, when she started coming on the bus. She always sat alone, and had never come up to him or talked to him until this afternoon. All he knew about her was that she was a year above him. He knew that because he had seen her sitting in class one day when he walked past the window. When she spoke to him as if he was just another person, he was so amazed that he forgot to say anything at all to her.
Arriving at the steps to his house he took his shoes off and went inside. Upstairs in his room he dumped his bag on the ground and got changed out of his school uniform.
“Mum!” He walked out of his room and checked around upstairs for her. Seeing no sign, he went down the stairs and called out again. “Mum! Where are you?”
Confused, he went to the kitchen and looked around in the pantry for something to eat. Finding some cake, he put a piece on a plate and walked into the dinning room to sit at the table.
On the table he spotted the pad that that usually lived next to the phone. He picked it up to put it back where it was supposed to be, but then noticed a note written on it.

Ben,
In town. Be back soon. Have some cake and do your homework.
See you soon,
Love Mum xxx

He had to read over it carefully a few times, picking up key words that he knew before he could understand what it meant. When his cake was finished he put the plate on the bench and went upstairs to get his homework. Sitting back down at the table, Ben put his homework down and suddenly freaked. He had never done his homework by himself before. Mum or Dad had always sat next to him and helped him with it. He couldn't do it by himself...
So he waited, staring at the wall, while his mind focused on another world altogether.

-----

A car pulled into the driveway. Ben jumped up and ran to the window to see who it was. The driver door opened and one of his best friends, Ed, climbed out and walked around to the front of the house after locking the car. The fact that Ed didn't have a license (as he was too young to have one) barely crossed his mind—Ed knew how to drive. He had never driven on the road before, but it didn't seem at all odd to Ben that he had driven over.
“Heya, Ed!” Ben said when he saw his mate walk in the door.
“Hey.”
“You bring the stuff?”
“Sure did.” Ben noticed that Ed had a bag slung over his shoulder, and watched as he walked into the lounge and put the bag down. “Your mum isn't home, is she?”
“No.”
Ed unzipped the bag and pulled out some cables and then a new gaming console that he had just got for his birthday. “Pretty sweet, aye?”
“Yeah.”
Soon Ed had finished setting up the console and they spent the next few hours battling away at all sorts of games. When tea time approached, Ed packed it all up and went home.
Alone again, Ben walked into the kitchen to get a drink, then went into the lounge and watched some TV.
A car pulled into the driveway. He heard footsteps crunching on the gravel and walking up the steps, then the door opened and someone came inside.

-----

“Ben?” The voice was his mother's. “I'm home.”
Ben heard her walk through the kitchen and into the dinning room.
“What are you doing, Ben?”
He blinked a few times and turned around in his seat. “Waiting for you,” he answered.
She walked up to him and looked over his shoulder at his homework. “Why haven't you done anything?”
“You weren't here.”
“But I told you to start by yourself!”
“I can't.”
“What do you mean you can't?”
“I don't know how to do it by myself. You need to help me.”
“Ben!” she exclaimed, “Please! For once can't you just do something by yourself? Why do you need me to help you with everything? You need to grow up, learn to do things independently!”
A confused look spread across Ben's face. “But...”
His mum turned around and walked back into the kitchen. Banging cupboard doors, pots and generally thumping around, she began to make dinner. Things then quietened down in the kitchen as his mum started to relax a little.
“I don't understand...” Ben whispered to himself, “Mum doesn't say those things...everyone else does...but not mum. Mum never does.”
Overhearing this, his mum took a deep breath and walked back in, pulled a chair out from the table and sat next to him. “Look, Ben, I'm sorry. I didn't mean all that. I was just tired and frustrated, and...I don't know. Sorry.” She put a hand under his chin and lifted up his head so he was looking at her. “Forgive me?” She asked.
He nodded.
“All right, let's look at this homework of yours.”

-----

It was midnight. The house was silent except for Ben's quiet sobs, muffled by the sheets and blankets under which he lay. He was wet with sweat, as the sheets were pulled over his head, but he barely noticed.
After almost two hours with his mum, he had finally finished his homework. The whole time his mum had been nagging at him to work quicker, because she needed to get dinner ready and he was holding her up. He really did try, but his mind kept drifting and he struggled to focus on his work.
It seemed to Ben that, more and more, everyone was getting annoyed with him. He tried to do better, but it wasn't good enough.
His dad had arrived home, tired and hungry, just as he was finishing his homework. It didn't take long for his dad to get annoyed with him, either. Mum hadn't started cooking dinner yet because he had taken so long with his homework. His parents had argued, and it was all his fault.
Lying awake in the middle of the night, Ben was crying. Not for himself, but for what he had caused. He seemed to mess everything up, and make everyone angry. If it wasn't for him, everyone, especially his parents, would be a lot happier. No one would ever miss him.

-----

“For overall excellence in all areas throughout the term, this award goes to Ben.”
Everyone started clapping as Ben, slightly embarrassed, with a grin on his face, stood up and walked to the front of the classroom to get his certificate. Looking around the room he saw all of his classmates and their parents, gathered here on the last day of the term for their class awards. His parents were near the back, with huge smiles on their faces, very proud of their son. Ben's grin grew even bigger.
When Mr. James had finished with the last of the awards, the line of kids fell apart as they moved back to their spots on the carpet. Ed whispered “Congratulations!” to Ben as he sat back down next to him.
“Thanks,” Ben whispered back.
A few minutes later it was over and all the kids went to see their parents, congratulations and consolations exchanged. Ben, his mum and his dad had a huge hug.
“We're so proud of you, Ben...”

-----

“Ben...Ben...Ben...”
He looked around. Everyone had disappeared. Turning back, his parents were no longer there, either.
“Where is everyone?” he whispered.
They ran away. Away from you. Away from the trouble you brought them.
“No.”
Yes. They are fed up with you.
“NO! My parents love me. They wouldn't run.”
But they did. They did run. You were nothing but unwanted trouble to them.
“Bu--”
RETARD! That's all you are. You know it. They know it. There's no point denying it.
He stood still, in silence, frightened.
Frightened? With good reason, too. They all hate you.
“They ran away.”
Yes.
“They don't like me.” Ben's voice was breaking.
That's right.
“They...they...hate...” He faltered; fell apart completely. Dropping to the ground he wailed as he realised how useless, worthless, he truly was. The world wouldn't miss him.
“What...what should I do?”
Do? Do? Run away! Take your problems with you. The world will be better off if you simply disappear.
“Disappear. I should disappear.”
Yes...Disappear. Leave everyone behind and disappear forever.

-----

“Ben...Ben...Ben...”
Someone was leaning over him, shaking his shoulders. He bolted upright. The person stumbled back and fell over, crying out.
Opening his eyes, the world was black. He blinked. Again. Still black. The digital clock on the shelf read 2:27AM.
Ben was soaking wet. Whether it was entirely sweat or not he didn't know.
“What happened, Ben?” his mother's voice asked from the ground next to him.
“Mum?”
The figure picked itself up and knelt beside the bed. “What happened? You were groaning loudly...you woke us up. I was worried. Did you have a bad dream?”
“Bad dream...yes...It was scary, mum,” Ben's voice quivered and he started shaking.
“What was it about?” asked his mum softly.
He violently shook his head and his mum wrapped her arms around him. They sat their together for a long time, Ben sobbing while his mum whispered reassurances in his ear and rubbed his back.
Eventually he fell asleep in his mum's arms and she lay him down again, pulled the covers over him and kissed him on the forehead. “Good night, Ben. Sweet dreams.”

-----

Kids pushed and shoved each other as they fought to get to their bags and their morning tea before everyone else. Ben stood to the side and waited until everyone was gone before he moved to his own bag to get his food out. As he walked outside to sit down and eat, some of the usual bullies, who seemed intent to make Ben's life miserable whenever possible, happened to be around the door when he walked through.
“Hey, jerk, what have you brought for me to eat today?” The boy pushed himself away from the wall he was leaning on and grabbed the packet of chips from Ben's hand. He opened it and put a chip in his mouth. “Gross. Salt and Vinegar.” He spat it out on the ground and tipped the packet upside down, the chips falling on the ground. After crushing them with his foot he looked back to Ben, who was just standing there, staring. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go get something else.” When Ben didn't move, he and his mates walked inside, leaving him alone.
Hungry, Ben decided to go back inside. His bag was lying on the ground with all his stuff tipped out, and his lunch box was empty. After he had picked up all his stuff and hung the bag back on the hook, he sat on the ground, leaning against the wall, and started to cry.

Something moved in the shadows. Ben sensed it and looked up. Not seeing anyone or anything, he called out, “Is anyone there?”
Silence.
He was just about to stand up to see what it was when the shadow moved, leaving the area in full daylight. It then occurred to him that there should never have been a shadow there—the whole side of the room was in full sunlight.
“What...?”
The shadow moved towards him and enveloped him in darkness.
“Help!” he screamed.
They can't hear you, you pathetic little boy.
He recognised the voice immediately. It was the same one that had haunted him in his dreams the night before.
“Go away!” he shouted.
Go away? Yes indeed—why haven't you gone away?
“Me?”
Yes you imbecile. We decided last night you were going to go away, didn't we?
Ben said nothing.
Well, what have you got to say? You've seen it again—everyone hates you. They don't care about you. It will be better for you and everyone else if you run away.
He listened, but still said nothing. His head started nodding slowly.
Ah. You are beginning to understand now. No one wants you around, that is why they pick on you. If you are no longer around they will be much happier. Even your parents will be happier. You want your parents to be happy, don't you?
More than anything did Ben want this. They were arguing all the time recently. It was his fault. If he wasn't there they would be happy.
That's right. And you won't have to be picked on any more, either. These people won't be around to do it. You will be much better off.
“How?”
It's easy. Run. Run away. Disappear. No one will find you. No one can bully you. Everything will be much better. Don't you see? It's easy.
It was all starting to make sense to Ben now. He had finally found the answer. A way to make everything better. To escape this cruel world where those who fall down are trampled on and left behind. All he had to do was disappear.
The shadow left. Ben was blinded by the sudden light. He blinked a few times until his eyes had readjusted to the daylight. Then he stood up and went to the toilets to wash his face. Looking at himself in the mirror, he saw an unfamiliar look on his face. One of determination. His look and posture said he was going to go his own way for a change. No one would tell him differently.
Yet, on the inside he knew he was the same little boy, who was secretly terrified of what he was going to do after school. He let out a deep sigh, and went back outside.
For the rest of the day he planned out many ways he could go about the task before him. Finally, by the end of lunch time, he had a plan.
A plan to disappear.

-----

The lecturer paced backwards and forwards at the front of the auditorium. Much of his audience had bored expressions on their faces, while others followed him with their eyes, listening intently—ears pricked up, bodies leaning forward, not wanting to miss a single word.
“Can anyone tell me what this is?” he asked, as he placed an x-ray on the OHP and turned it on.
Ben's hand shot up from where he was sitting in a row near the middle.
“Yes, Ben?”
“It's a right wrist bone, with several fractures at the top and to the side--”
“Could you come here and point them out for us?”

-----

“Ben? Could you come here and point them out for us?”
Ben jumped up and then froze. Slowly he made his way to the front, then stopped and stood there, staring at the class. Mr. James gave him a whiteboard marker and said “Mark them with a tick.”
Turning towards the board, Ben saw many pictures of all sorts of different creatures. Not knowing what he was supposed to be doing, he hesitated, then lifted his hand up and ticked a random insect. The whole class started laughing. Quickly, he ticked several more and went to the back of the room, sitting down behind everyone else to avoid their looks.
Mr. James was at a loss for words. Even for Ben this behaviour was shocking.

-----

“...Ben has worked hard this year, achieving at a very high level. In fact, he just graduated at the top of his class!”
Hearing this, Ben dived back underwater to escape the eyes of the group listening to his mum. He always enjoyed the Christmas party at their friends place that they went to every year. Unfortunately, his mum seemed to have the need to brag about him this year, which he found embarrassing. He hated attention, and didn't know how to accept compliments, so he swam over to the opposite side of the pool and grabbed an inner tube to float in until his friends arrived.
A few minutes later a tidal wave rolled over him, tipping the tube over. Suddenly underwater, he swallowed before he could stop himself. Quickly he swam up and broke the surface coughing and choking. He managed to get himself to the side of pool, where he lifted himself out and waited for his breathing to steady.
“You could have killed me!” yelled Ben as he stood up, glaring at Ed, who was now lying on his back on the inner tube.
“Ha,” Ed sighed contentedly, relaxing. Then he was underwater.
The two fought, dunking each other, wrestling, being boys.
“Ed, Ben, come get some chips and coke!” shouted a voice from the deck.
Ed pushed Ben under one last time, pulled himself out of the pool and ran across the grass.

-----

The bell rang loudly. Boys and girls pushed through the doors of the classroom as they raced to get home.
As usual, Ben stood back, waiting for the way to clear, not wanting to be pushed around. Within minutes there was no one left. He grabbed his bag, walked back to his desk and opened it.
“What are you up to, Ben?” asked Mr. James, looking at him with raised eyebrows.
“Uh...I forgot my homework book.”
He frowned. “It's Friday. There is no homework.”
“Oh...yeah.” Ben started shutting his desk, but as his teacher turned away he quickly lifted it back up and shoved everything into his open bag. Closing his desk, he started towards the door.
“Ben?”
He turned slowly back. “Yes?”
“Your bag's open.”
“Oh,” he lowered his bag and zipped it up, then put it back on his shoulders and hurried out of the classroom.

Ben slipped through the gate, hidden by the bodies of those surrounding him moving in the same direction. He walked down the footpath weaving around other kids and parents, heading away from school, in the opposite direction of his home.
Suddenly, he realised that he had never walked in that direction. He didn't know where it went. For a moment his heart raced and he stopped. A man walking behind him bumped into him.
“Watch it, boy,” he said as he walked around him.
Ben stood still for a while, deciding what to do. Then, too scared to continue, he turned around and ran back down towards school. As he passed back through the gates he slowed, and without warning the words came back into his head, haunting him.
Run...disappear...no one wants you around...you will be much better off without them...run...hide...disappear...
He stopped again, torn. What should he do? The bus would be leaving soon. He had to make a decision before then. It had seemed so obvious earlier. Now he had no idea. Should he run away, or should he stay? If he stayed it would be the same as always, or possibly get worse, but would running away be any better? He didn't know how to survive by himself. He wouldn't last long. Making up his mind, he started towards the bus.
You want your parents to be happy, don't you?
Again, Ben stopped suddenly. His parents. Yes, he wanted them to be happy. They would be happier if he went. Nothing mattered more than his parents' happiness. He spun around and once more headed out through the school gates.

-----

Water went up his nose. Down his throat. He struggled for breath and gulped down more. He tried to swim up, to the surface, but he couldn't. His togs were caught on something. He tried to break free, but was unsuccessful. The more he fought, it seemed, the harder it got. There was nothing he could do.
He was going to die.

-----

“Ben!”
Ben stopped, again. With a confused look on his face, he turned around to see the girl from the bus running up behind him.
“Ben. Where are you going?” she asked, breathing heavily, when she caught up with him. “Aren't you coming on the bus today?”
He hesitated, then answered “No...”
“Oh. How are you getting home, then?”
“I'm not.” he replied without thinking.
“What do you mean? Where are you going then?”
He didn't answer.
“Ben?” she looked worried, and started looking around, as if searching for someone.
He realised suddenly that she was looking for someone to help her.
“Okay, I'll tell you,” he said so that she wouldn't get anyone else. “I'm running away.”
Shock crossed her face and he looked away, avoiding her eyes, while he told her why. Bit by bit, with careful prompting, she found out everything.
When he was finished, he looked at her. She looked like she was about to cry.
“Ben...it's all lies. None of it is true.”
“Yes it is.”
“No it isn't. Your parents love you. They would be devastated...sad...if you ran away. They wouldn't be happy. Neither would you.”
He stood silent.
“Don't go. Come back with me, stay here. Things will get better.”
“But I have no friends. Everyone hates me.”
“That isn't true,” tears brimmed in her eyes. “I'll be your friend.”
“You...you will?” his face was disbelieving. “No one wants to be friends with...someone like me.”
“I do.”
He looked into her eyes and realised she was telling the truth. She really did want to be his friend.
“Will you be my friend?” she asked him.
“Yes,” he answered quickly. Then added, “What's your name?”
“Lisa,” she answered with a smile on her face.
“Lisa. That's a nice name.”
“Thanks! Come on, let's go back. We've missed the bus now, though, so we'll go to the office so I can ring my mum and ask her to pick us up.”

-----

Then something else was tugging at him. Pulling him down. Something grabbed his ankle. It was a hand. Someone was holding on to his, trying to free him. Arms wrapped around his legs. Whoever it was worked at his togs to break them loose.
Then he was free. He was being pushed fast to the surface. He breathed in the welcome air and choked on the water in his mouth and throat. People lifted him out and lay him down on the side of the pool.
As he became stable again, he turned his head to the pool and looked at the worried girl at the edge, the one who had saved him.
“Thank you, Lisa.” he said quietly.

-----

Sitting in the back seat of Lisa's mum's car, a small smile began to tug at the corner of Ben's mouth.

-----

“Thank you for making the time to come in and see me.” Mr. James shook hands with Ben's parents, then motioned towards two seats set in front of his desk. “Please, take a seat.” He moved around to his seat and sat down facing them across the desk.
After shuffling through some papers on his desk, he set them down and clear his throat.
“I called you in here this afternoon to discuss some...issues...about Ben.”
“We have been over this--” started Ben's mum.
Mr. James interrupted. “I am not talking about his learning disabilities, though that situation is not looking very bright, either.”
When he received no response, he continued. “I have noticed that more and more recently he seems to...drift, so to speak.”
“Drift?”
“Day dream. He is continuously off in his own world, not paying any attention whatsoever to what is going on in the classroom. I am worried that this is slowing his learning even more than it already is.”
“It's not his fault that he's slow--”
“I know that, and I'm not saying it is. All I'm saying is that his constant daydreaming is not helping it.”
“How long has this been going on?” asked Ben's dad, hoping to change the direction of the conversation.
“Over the past couple of weeks, I would think. It wasn't so bad at first, but on Friday it reached a point where I simply could not leave it alone.”
“What do you want us to do?” asked Ben's mum, at a loss.
“If you could just talk to him...or a professional, or something. I'm not sure myself. All I know is that this can't go on. I can't help him at all when he doesn't pay attention. I can only do so much.”
“Well so can we!”
“You are his parents, the--”
“Don't you tell me how to raise my son. I have done incredibly well so far, as good as I can do with someone like him. Do not tell me what I can or can't do.”
She stood up and pushed her chair back, swinging her handbag over her shoulder.
“Please, I am not trying to tell you how to raise him. All I am asking is please, please, help me to help you and Ben.”
She took a deep breath and released it. “Okay. Sorry. I'll...do something. Talk to him.”
“Thank you. That's all I ask.”

-----

“So. What do ya want to do?”
“I dunno.”
“Come on, Ben, there must be something you want to do.”
He looked at Lisa. “You choose.”
“Um...we could play a game?”
“Okay! But...we don't have that many.”
Ben led Lisa to the cupboard where his mum kept all the games. “Pick one.”
After looking through them for a moment, Lisa pulled out Monopoly and together they set it up.
“Ben!” a voice called from the front door. A few moments later, it's owner appeared in the doorway to the kitchen.
“Heya, Ed.”
“What you two up to?”
“We're about to start playing Monopoly. Wanna play?”
“Yeah! But I'm warning you: I'm the master.”
“Ha,” said Lisa, “I bet I could beat you.”
“Welllll...” both Lisa and Ed turned towards Ben. “I could beat both of you put together!”
“You're on!”

-----

“We're home, Ben.” His mum said as she walked into the lounge. Ben was sitting on the floor playing Monopoly by himself. “What are you up to?
Ben was silent for a moment, hand in mid air as he was moving the car around the board. He blinked a few times. Then he sat back and looked at his mum. “I'm playing Monopoly.”
Mum looked worried, as she wondered why he took so long to respond. She noticed that there were two other pieces on the board, and money was spread all over the place. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
“Okay...” she replied, though she wasn't convinced.

-----

Lisa was sitting on a bench eating her lunch when Ben walked out of the corridor with his. “Ben, come over here!” she yelled across to him.
He looked over in her direction and, after scanning for and finding her, started walking in her direction.
“Hi,” he said as he sat down next to her.
“Hey,” she smiled, “What have you been doing today?”
Her smile brought one to his own face. “Nothing,” he took a bite of his sandwich. “Have you done anything?”
“Well, today's been boring so far. We had a test.”
“Oh.”
They sat in silence for a while, eating and enjoying the company of each other.
“Ben and Lisa...” taunted a groups of boys that had appeared behind them. “Sitting in a tree... K-I-S-S-I-N-G...”
Lisa stood up quickly and twirled around, anger replacing her smile. “Get. Lost.” she said loudly.
They laughed. “Looks like the retard has a girlfriend,” one of them said.
“I bet you boys could never get one,” Lisa defended, “I know I would never go out with you losers.”
“What makes you think anyone would want to go out with you?” one of them asked, smirking.
“Just go away. Now.”
“Oooh,” another replied in mock fear, “or else...?”
“I'll slap you,” she finished.
The boy laughed, “Whatever.” Without warning, Lisa slapped him. He recoiled. “Ow!”
“I did warn you.”
“Come on guys, let's go do something else,” the other guy said. Muttered agreements quickly followed and they shuffled away. Lisa watched them go, then sat down next to Ben again.
“Will they come back?” Ben asked.
“No, they'll leave us alone now.” she replied, though Ben didn't believe it.

Thud. The sound of Ben's body slamming against the back wall of the classroom made a reasonably loud noise.
The boy who seemed to be the leader of the group smirked. “Where's your girlfriend now?”
Ben whimpered.
“You're pathetic,” he sneered, “When you finally realise that that girl is pretending to like you maybe you will go back to your place. People like you will never have friends. You retard.”
“No,” Ben whispered, surprising the boy.
“Yes, actually,” the boy countered. He kicked him in the shins and they left quickly, leaving Ben alone and crying on the ground.

-----

Ben sat by himself on the bus, quietly staring out the window at the kids outside as they chatted happily with their friends. Lisa wasn't going on the bus today, so he would be alone on the trip home. He was used to that, though. His mind drifted off as he sat there waiting for the bus to leave.
Someone sat down next to him. “Hey.”
He turned around and saw Lisa. “I thought you weren't on the bus today.”
“I am now. Mum rang the school.”
“Cool,” Ben said, as a smile replaced the lonely expression he had.
The bus pulled away, and they talked for a while about school and other things. When they were about half way to Ben's house, a voice a couple of rows behind them yelled out, “Hey guys, the loser is talking to himself!” Laugher spread among the people on the bus, as some of them stood up and walked down to where Ben was sitting near the front of the bus.
“Talking to your imaginary friend?” asked an older kid.
Ben blinked, and after a couple of moments realised that there was no one sitting next to him. He felt his face going red.
Another kid laughed. “Where's your girlfriend? I don't think she would be happy if she knew you were cheating on her. Especially not with an imaginary friend.”
Not knowing what to do, Ben sat still and silent. He wanted to crawl into a hole a hide from the world, like he had wanted to so many other times. He wanted to...disappear. The dreams came flashing back to him, blocking out the harsh voices around him.
He felt a shove in his side. “Oi, get off. We want to go home you idiot.”
Looking out the window he noticed that the bus had stopped and was right outside his driveway. Quickly he grabbed his bag and pushed through a couple of boys to get to the door and out of the bus. He stumbled down the driveway, lost and confused, as he wondered what he had done wrong to deserve this life.

-----

Wandering around the school field by himself, Ben looked around trying to find Lisa. Eventually he spotted her and started moving in her direction. Then he noticed she was with a whole group of other girls. He stopped. Could he face a whole group of people? He felt comfortable with Lisa, but he had never met any of her friends. They were probably like everyone else.
“You are so gullible, freak.”
Ben turned to the side to see a girl, probably around his own age, watching him almost with amusement.
“She doesn't even like you. Everyone knows that,” she scoffed, “Except for you.”
“She does like me.”
A nasty grin appeared on her face. “That's what she wants you to think, moron. She's only pretending to be your friend.”
“Why?”
The girl rolled her eyes. “So she can make you look like an idiot when she tells the whole school about how she fooled you.”
“No.”
“Yes,” she insisted, then her expression changed as she noticed something. “See for yourself,” she pointed towards Lisa.
Ben looked around and felt sick. Lisa and her friends were looking in his direction and laughing. He didn't know if they were laughing at him or something else, but it felt like it was aimed at him. He looked around behind him and didn't see anything funny.
“I told you,” the girl said, shaking her head. She slapped him quite hard on the back and walked away with her head up high.
He wasn't entirely convinced that Lisa was laughing at him, but he was no longer sure of anything.

-----

Ben's mum walked down the hallway with a stack of folded washing, ready to be put away. As she passed Ben's room, she thought she heard voices. Confused, she paused outside his door on the way back.
“What?” she heard Ben ask. Thinking that he must be talking to her, she lifted her hand to the door and was about to push it open when she heard him again.
“I still don't understand.”
She was now thoroughly confused. Ben didn't have any friends over—and she certainly hadn't heard anyone else say anything. After another slightly longer pause, he laughed, and she couldn't wait any longer. Swinging the door open wide she walked into the room and stopped, looking down at Ben. “What are you doing, Ben?” she asked.
“What do you mean?” he asked in reply, a slightly confused look replacing his smile.
“You're talking to yourself.” she replied.
“No I'm not.”
“Then who are you talking to?”
“Uh, Lisa...” he stated, very confused.
But his mum was even more confused than him. “What do you mean you're talking to Lisa? She isn't even here.”
“Yes she is. She's sitting right next to me.” He lifted his hand up and rested it in mid-air next to him.
“Ben,” she was panicking now. “There is no one next to you.” She waved her arm all through the air next to Ben, including the area right around his hand. “See, nothing is there.”
Ben dropped his arm. His breathing increased dramatically. “But...but...she was right there...I saw her...we were talking...” his voice was shaking. “What happened? She's gone. I don't understand...”
His mum sat down next to him and rested her hand on his leg. Sweat appeared on his forehead and she felt it. It was hot. She quickly went and got a cold, wet, flannel, and lay Ben down on his back, placing the flannel on his forehead. A few tears had mixed with the sweat. She sat there with him, waiting, worrying, until he had finally calmed down and recovered enough to rest alone.

Things had become too extreme. Mr. James was right; Ben needed professional help. She picked up the phone and dialled a counsellor she had used once before in relation to Ben. They set up an appointment for later in the week. She just hoped Ben would last that long.

-----

“I'm not going on the bus today,” Lisa told Ben as the bell rang for the end of lunch.
“Why not?” he asked.
“I'm going to Kiley's house.”
“Okay. See you tomorrow then.”
“Bye,” she smiled and went to class.

After school, Ben was walking towards the bus when he passed behind Kiley and some other girls. Lisa wasn't with them.
“Look,” he heard one of the girls say. “There is no way that Lisa could possibly like him.”
He walked faster, to get away from them. It was true. Lisa didn't really like him, did she? Her friends didn't think so. He got on the bus and sat in his usual seat, his mind repeating what he had heard, over and over.

-----

Ben lay asleep, his mind still agitated over the single line he had overheard. The lies had become too much for him to determine fact from fiction. His mind was thoroughly confused and his imagination was building up fake memories, though he didn't realise it.

“Hey,” Lisa said as she joined the group.
“Lisa!” Kiley exclaimed as she hugged her. They smiled.
“So, Lisa, we were wondering,” began one of the other girls. “Do you really like that freak, Ben?”
Lisa scoffed. “No way,” she shuddered. “He's a looser.”
“He definitely fell for it..”
“I know—He's so gullible.”
“When are you going to tell him the truth.”
She shrugged. “I don't know yet.”
“He'll cry like a baby when you do.”
“Don't you feel even the slightest bit guilty about it?” asked Kiley.
“Not really,” Lisa replied. “It's fun. Besides, no one likes him anyway.”

-----

The next day, after school, Ben saw Lisa standing by herself over by the bike shed.
“Hey Ben,” she said when she saw him walking over to her.
“What are you doing over here,” he asked.
“I had to give something to someone before they left,” she replied. “How was your day?”
Ben was silent.
“Are you all right?” Lisa asked worriedly.
“No. Why did you lie to me?” he asked softly.
“What do you mean?” She looked confused.
“You know!” he yelled, angry. “You're not really my friend! You're just lying!”
“No I'm not! I am your friend, Ben,” she countered.
“I know you're lying. I heard you.”
“Heard what? I never said anything about you.”
“Yes you did, to Kiley and your other friends.”
“No I didn't, Ben! Honest!”
“You said I'm a looser and gullible. You said no one likes me.”
“I would never say that! It isn't true!”
“You did say that! Yesterday after school.”
“No, I really didn't. I don't know what you're talking about,” Lisa pleaded.
“DON'T. LIE.” Ben yelled loudly. He rammed himself into Lisa, pushing her backwards as hard as he could, letting out all the anger built up inside himself.
Lisa cried out as she stumbled backwards and fell to the ground, hitting her head hard on the edge of a concrete step. The collision forced her neck forwards and she lay there, unmoving. Ben started shaking as he realised what he had done. A teacher came ran over and knelt down next to her. She went pale and yelled out something. Kids started surrounding them. Another teacher pushed his way through and pulled out a cellphone. He talked quickly and then hung up. Ben panicked. What had he done?
Time passed in a blur. He simply stood there shaking until a teacher pulled him aside and sat him down. An ambulance came and doctors leaned over Lisa. A police officer talked to the first teacher. His parents arrived in a hustle. They tried to talk to him but he wouldn't say anything. He couldn't. Ben saw and heard it all but his mind was blank. He could hear the voices around him but didn't know what they were saying. His mind was in overload, he couldn't process anything any more. His head spun. Then his eyes closed and he shut down completely.

-----

One week later...

The music died down. A man stood up and walked to the front of the church. He stepped behind the pulpit and began to talk. “For those of you who do not know me, I play many different roles in life. I am a son, a husband, a father, a colleague and a friend. But today I am here primarily as a father. Lisa's father.”
Ben sat in the back row, next to the aisle, with his mum sitting next to him. The past week had been terrible. He had not slept more than an hour at a time without waking up from nightmares. The police had been to his house at least twice to talk to him about what had happened. Ben and several other students who had been there when it happened were given the day off school the next day—Ben wasn't going back. His parents had pulled him out school, and they may be moving to a different city. They needed a fresh start somewhere else.
“Lisa was a beautiful person in every way. She loved and cared about everyone, even those who no one else would. She was taken from us much too soon,” he paused as he swallowed. He glanced briefly down the back, directly at Ben. Sorrow and regret was deep in his eyes, but there was also compassion in them. He continued on, but Ben tuned out.
His heart was broken, shattered, into a million pieces. It seemed impossible that his heart would ever be whole again; nor would his mind. For years he had been teased, tormented and bullied for something that was beyond his control. He had tried to escape by building his own, perfect world, but the lies had dug too deep. Now, his only true friend was gone. Because of him.
Tears brimmed in his eyes. He had killed his friend. It was unintentional, it was a freak coincidence that she landed in that position. But the fact remained that she was now dead. He had killed her. What's more, she hadn't even done anything wrong. She had done nothing but love him, and he returned it by believing the lies. It was all lies. She could never be so cruel.
A tear escaped one eye, and slowly ran down his cheek. Another came from the other eye. Soon the tears flowed and he couldn't contain himself. He sobbed quietly as his mum wrapped her arms around him, trying to be of some comfort. But nothing could truly comfort him when he sat there amongst a crowd of people gathered because of his friend Lisa, whose life he had taken.
There was now a video playing on the screen at the front of the church. It was a collection of photos from Lisa's short life, from her birth to the week before her death. Ben wanted to watch, to see his friend one last time, but he couldn't. Just looking in her eyes filled him with guilt and regret. He couldn't handle much more.
He stood up and ran out the doors into the foyer, then across and out through the wide doors to the outside. He ran down the steps, across the car park and onto the field behind the church. But no amount of running could separate him from himself, he knew, and he collapsed onto the ground and wailed. He cried for himself, the life he had been dealt, and the sheer unfairness of life. Most of all, though, he cried for Lisa. The one brave enough to stand against the world and fight for the innocent. The one who showed love and care to everyone. The one who had befriended him when no one else would.
He would miss her greatly.
“Goodbye, Lisa,” he whispered.