Worship Camp and Short Stories

A story is like something you wind out of yourself. Like a spider, it is a web you weave, and you love your story like a child," -Katherine Anne Porter

This week, I spent 30 hours with a hodgepodge of church kids, ages from 8 to 17, at my church's Worship Camp. There was a lot of highs, lows, tears, and laughs, but there were also scavenger hunts, crazy hairstyles with shaving cream, water wars, first-time tie-dyeing, Okay, maybe I didn't learn how to worship like a pro - nothing groundbreaking happened.  (But then again, nothing in my life ever happens in a groundbreaking fashion.) However, I did learn a few things. I learned that God is growing me in the music department, since I have flourished in writing and visual art. I was definitely dragged out of my comfort zone kicking and screaming.

Here is what I wrote, edited, and . . .  did not preform on Friday morning.  The youth leader read it, and told me that it was too mature for the younger kids and wasn't fitting for the theme - which basically translates to 'Sorry, our church cannot handle your awesomeness.' However, she did introduce me to Teen Ink, which I am thinking about getting involved in. This little short story doesn't really have a title, so enjoy!

Dear Listeners, 

You're probably only reading this because I'm making you. Or because I'm telling you.  But a forewarning.  Don't expect this to be some kind of touching, moving story full of truth and heart. Because, well, it's not.  If you cry, don't say I didn't warn you. This is the story of how one person ruined my entire life. 

I was an . . . interesting teenager.  I still am. On the outside, I was rough. I had everything I needed, but I didn't care. I had more than enough, but I choose to waste it with drugs, exploit it with other men, and soil it and everything around me black with my own malice. I ran with the wrong crowd, did all of the wrong things, etc. You know, classic, stereotypical bad girl. Now, hold that image in your mind: Everything that you think of, I was probably it. 

But my parents.  My parents . . . I have an odd relationship with them.  They've kind of always just been there, and I've always been like them.  To be dreadfully blunt, I've taken on my father's salty mouth and smoking habit, and from my mother I received bitter apathy and a knack for manipulation. I believe most of what they tell me, even though we fight about everything from the shade of off-white so-and-so painted their door to what's the best kind of breakfast cereal. I hate them, but I can't get rid of them. 

But one day, everything changed.  Now, don't look at me like that.  Yes, it's a cliche, but that's the way it happened. 

I was sitting on my front porch, preparing to light a cigarette when a truck pulled into the empty house across the street - abandoned and run down.  No one had lived there for years, for as long as I could remember.  But a big U-Haul van was driving in nonetheless. 

Out stepped a boy, about my age, and his parents.  I watched them take a few things out of the cabin of the truck, then pause.  I narrowed my eyes.  Obviously a good, well-off family. Tight-laced, probably.   Rich. Why they were moving here, who knows.  Not my problem . . . 

Or so I thought. 

Just as I was about to get up and go back inside to my hell-hole of a life, the boy started strolling across the street . . . towards me. Me, of all people.  And what the hell did he want anyways? 

He told me that his name was Joshua.  I wasn't ready to tell him my name yet, but he extended a hand, and I took it.  He pulled me up and shook my hand.  I hadn't had anyone shake my hand in a long time.  It felt, odd, in a satisfying way that I hadn't felt in a while.  Good is the only word I can find to accurately describe it. 

I really didn't want to make conversation, so I didn't.  He, however, was as bubbly as a shaken up can of soda.  Unfortunately, we ended up talking for hours as his family moved into the house across the street. He even gave me his phone number, but I rejected it because, gosh, he was just across the street anyways.
The next day, after school, he came over. I ripped open the door, confused. I asked him what are you doing here? 

He replied with that he's just here to talk. 

When I asked him what about, he shrugged and just said 'stuff'. 

Reluctantly, I invited him into my house.  Not the nicest place, but too bad. He would just have to deal with it. 

We sat on my bed together, silent. Then he asked me about myself. 

Myself? I questioned.  There's nothing to tell. 

When I refused, he started talking about himself. 

He recounted his entire life to me, about being born when his parents weren't married, and, he was born on a couch, of all places. 

But then we got to talking about the deep stuff.  Like, the really deep stuff. He asked me what I thought about life, death, God, people.  Anything and everything you could think of.  He also gave me his insight on these things.  Nine times out of ten, we disagreed, but it was amiable.  Mostly because his answers confused me.  They were gritty and real, but optimistic for the most part.  Not convoluted, as he seemed to me. Real was the descriptor I finally decided on. 

Eventually, that day, he had to go back home.  As I walked him out, our conversation was tumbling around in my head, and something odd rises up in me, like those painful pimples that you can feel underneath the surface of the skin, but they haven't come to a head yet.  Yeah, that's how I felt. 

Once he was out of earshot, I sighed. Despite my better judgement, I liked Joshua, in more ways than one. 

Joshua and his insight came back every day for two weeks. After school, before school, during my work hours.  He was even cutting into time with my friends.  I could obviously tell that he did not approve of the things I was doing with my spare time, but he did something unexpected.  He let me know that he disagreed with me, but he wasn't intrusive or arrogant or hateful.  He was . . . loving.  

Which, at the time, confused the heck out of me. 

Soon enough, I started recording our conversations. 

I remember one thing about those recordings. They were a lifesaver. One night, I remember, my parents, who rarely talked anyways, were fighting.  Screaming and shouting and throwing and crying and hitting, and oh my God.  Oh, my God. 

The clearest memory of that night was me, sitting there, curled up with my back to the door, and reaching for the file with all of those recordings on there.  I pressed one, hoping that just to hear Joshua's voice, I'd feel better. 

It was him, talking about trust and rest. "You know, you can always come to me when things are hard, and I'll help you.  I'll talk to you, I'll listen, I'll take everything I can from you. For I don't ask for anything in return.  I promise I won't put anything on you." 

I click the device off before I can hear my reply. 

* 

Time passes.  Joshua and I spend more time together.  I don't however, notice my life changing that much, other than spending time with him.  I would still go out and party with my friends.  I would still use drugs in pathetic solitude.  Etc, etc, blah blah.  You don't want to hear about my pathetic life. 

But one night, my friends and I, we were out on the town - drunk. After a long night, I was irritable and susceptible to impulsiveness.   Meaning, I am what people call 'an angry drunk.' 

Someone, I forget who, had the idea to get a midnight snack at the local gas station.  We followed, stumbling along like lost puppies on drugs. 

One, lazy teenager with bright red hair sat at the counter, biting his nails. We snuck around corners, shoving bags of chips into our baggy sweatshirts and candy bars into our pockets. I remember grabbing a pack of gum off of a shelf when the fluorescent lights  shone off of a familiar face at the gas station.  It was Joshua, filling up his car. 

In retrospect, the whole endeavor was the stupidest thing I've ever done. 

By the end of our rampage, we had a total of 300$ worth of stuff between the four of us.  But listen to this, after that, we just walked out.  No joke, we got in a single file line and walked out of the gas station. Thinking about it now, I want to punch myself in the face. 

Of course, the nerdy cashier chased us out of the store and started shouting at us in the night.  My friends just laughed and swore and threw around obscene gestures. 

Unfortunately, I was the last one out of the store, so I was closer to the cashier when he stormed out. 

However, the second he laid a finger on me, I whipped around and punched him in the face. 

I saw him hit the ground with astounding clarity, and everything was pushed away as my friends ran off into the night, hooting and shouting with drunken glee. The boy's skull cracked like an eggshell against the sidewalk, blood pooling out, staining the concrete with it's toxicity.  

Every ounce of my dignity was stripped away as I turned to face Joshua.  He looked at me with a sharpness in his eyes. Dull and blunt, like a punch to the stomach, because his face was stricken with utter disappointment.  The sadness turned his eyes a deep blue, drowning my heart. 

I turned away and left him in the buzzing fluorescent lights and the cold night air, running home and tossing my selfish indulgences aside. 

Joshua called the police.  The teenage boy with the obnoxious red hair was fine, by the way. They arrested Joshua, even though he told the absolute truth. Somehow, he was convicted of our drunken ordeal, charged with theft, assault, and underage alcohol use. 

I haven't seen Joshua since that night. Despite how short our relationship was, despite how much we disagreed, I still missed him.  I missed him with a burning in my heart, like I had taken a drill to my chest. Everywhere, I saw him. I saw him in the way that the trees danced, reminding me of the way that he would move his body to his favorite song.  I saw him in a child's eyes, and how his eyes would always glow when he smiled. I saw him in the way that the wind whispered to me, mysterious and beautiful.  I actually saw him a few times, in similar people's faces, and I would chase after them or call out his name, but he was never really there. 

But I was wrong.  I realized that he was really there.  I still had the memories, as sharp as a pencil on the first day of school.  I had the recordings.  I had pictures.  But for now, I mourn and actively wait joyfully, because Joshua may not be present, he's also not absent. 

Joshua will eventually be released, and I absolutely cannot wait for the day when the Groom will get to meet his Bride.

Copyright 2015 Olivia J, The WordShaker

God bless,

~The WordShaker

#GroupTherapy Inspired by Amy Sauder

"Write until it becomes as natural as breathing.  Write until not writing makes you anxious," -Unknown

First of all, I changed my Instagram username to @olivia.j.the.wordshaker to match my blog for ya'll. 

Since the wonderful Amy Sauder is one of my best writer-friends, I will be supporting her and jumping on her bandwagon of what she calls Group Therapy. This is a phenomenon where book characters (my book characters, specifically), respond to my life problems. 

So, here goes nothing.  These characters are all from my WIP, Deus Ex Eremus: God from the Wilderness.  This story has very few characters, but that's just the style and genre of the book. Like honestly, besides these 6, there are probably only like 4 more characters who are only in for a scene or two. 

Wyatt: He sighs and crosses his arms, looking at me with a certain intense kindness in his eyes.  "Well, if it makes you feel any better, this will all end one way or another. Nothing lasts forever."

Terra: She pauses before speaking, the gears visibly turning in her head. "You, know, I've been through something like this before, and what helps for me is to put it in perspective. Focus on everything good in your life. Imagine the future - if conditions allow, you'll probably live way past this problem anyways." 

Lilly: She immediately lurches toward me and wraps me in her soft, stick-like arms. No words from Lilly are needed

Harper: She tosses her hair and scowls playfully at me.  "Suck it up, I know you're stronger than this." But after her harsh words, she is generous with her affections. 

Wyatt's uncle, Adam: He clears his throat, scratching his salt and pepper stubble and smiling. "Don't die." Winking at me, he slaps a meaty hand on my back and laughs.  "Just joking.  You've got this, kid."

Terra's grandma, Eloise: With a cocked, half smile, she says to me.  "You're never fully dressed without a smile!" 

Hope you enjoyed hearing what my characters had to say! 

Follow Amy Sauder at amylsauder.wordpress.com

~The WordShaker

Why We Should be Proud to be Writers

"If a story is in you, it has got to come out," -William Faulkner

I am honored to choose the title of writer. Because writers have the most important, yet underrated job of all.  Over doctors, who just keep our bodies alive.  Over teachers, who fill our heads with knowledge.  Over any other profession, because writers are the givers of life.

We give life through our words.  Words are life.  With just one word, the creator of the universe spoke the heavens into existence, and as writers, we wield the power to create with nothing but the 26 letters and characters of the English language. We start from the bottom and build up.  We can manipulate everything that is displayed in your head with our word choice. We can paint a picture on your mind with long, flowing sentences.  We describe each tiny movement of a character's face to display their emotion.  We can drag you along for a bumpy ride with our choppy phrases and harsh words. We have power over all, except ourselves. Because words flow out of us like blood.

I have a story to tell.  I have many complex stories inside of me, and this must be told through the rapid motions of my fingers flying over these keys. My stories are everything - they are what I breathe, what I drink in, what I bleed out. They make up me, because they are breathed into me like life by the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.

You have that power.  I have that power.  So, be proud to be a wielder of words, even if you've been staring at a white screen with a blinking cursor for days, weeks, years.  

Just some daily inspiration from Yours Truly,

~The WordShaker

Avengers vs. X-Men: 6 Reasons Why the X-Men Franchise is Superior in Every Way

In light of the new Avengers movie coming out, I decided to go against the flow and tell all of you why the X-Men are leaps and bounds better than the Avengers.  Now, the Avengers aren't bad by any means, but the X-Men are just so much better. And here are my 6 reasons why. 

*Disclaimer: My knowledge of the Avengers and X-Men extends just beyond the movies, so I will only be discussing  mainly the movie realm.  If you don't like that, then you can write your own article with all your fancy comic-book knowledge.*

SPOILERS, duh. 

3 Reasons why The X-Men are Superior to the Avengers

1. The Wonderful Characters
The complexity of Wolverine, the elusiveness of Mystique, the vile nature of Magneto, the goofy Quicksilver, the classy and cool Professor X.  The characters in the X-Men are diverse and real.  Being more general, the X-Men are ten times more relatable because, in the end, they are just real people with genetic mutations.  Rogue is just a teenage girl who cannot have what every person needs - human contact. Charles Xavier was just a boy when he thought he was going crazy when he heard everyone else's thoughts. Mystique is not comfortable in her own skin because she can be in anyone's skin. Peter Maximoff is just a teenager who uses his super-speed to steal 2 liter bottles of coke and pull pranks. Erik Lehnsherr is only evil because an evil man who hated mutants killed his mother. All of these things make the X-Men just a band of ordinary people with extraordinary powers in extraordinary situations. And we cannot forget the amazing bromance between Charles and Erik. In the end, the X-Men are less super, and more heroes. 


2. The Science Behind the X-Men is Much More Interesting and Realistic
I like science fiction.  But when I watch/read science fiction, I want it to be somewhat plausible.  Hey, that's just me. I have always found the science behind the X-Men to be much more cohesive and realistic.  Society is just on the cusp of genetic discovery, and we have been for the last ten-or-so years.  Genetic testing and research has been progressing for leaps and bounds, and since the X-Men focuses on this and takes a very relevant topic to today and puts a science-fiction spin on it, the X-Men in general prove to have more of an interesting concept that can be applied to today, whereas the Avengers and their powers are more scattered and not as cohesive as the X-Men. 

3. The Gritty, Realistic Spin on Superheroes in the 21st Century
The mutants pose a threat because of their evolutionary diversity and dominance. And the Avengers pose a threat because of their powers and the mass destruction they can truly cause.  Except the difference between the X-Men and the Avengers is society's reaction to them. Society's reaction to the mutants is realistic, with fear.  The government gets involved and they are trying to change them because they different.  And nearly anything different poses a threat. This serves as a metaphor to how people react to things they don't understand: with fear and hostility. 

The mutants have powerful, human reactions as well. Rouge hates her powers.  She hates it so much that she gives in, and takes the antidote that changes her so she can have human contact. And Erik - he gets egotistical.  He lords his powers over everyone, and puts himself on a pedestal.  Some use their powers for good, and some for bad.  And the innate motivations they have behind their choice for good or evil are clear cut and relatable. 

Another theme I enjoy is that it's less about fighting evil, but about fighting the evil within.  Think of it as two sides to the same coin. There are good mutants, there are bad mutants.  There are mutants that don't care.  There are mutants who hide.  There are many shades of gray within the spectrum, which is much more realistic than the conflicts within the Avengers.  It is always good versus evil, nearly no shades of gray.  While I will admit that Age of Ultron better displays this concept, it is still nothing like the X-Men franchise.  Because the X-Men is about those shades of grey, and how sometimes good and evil are just two sides of the same coin. 

3 Reasons why The Avengers aren't as Amazing as Everyone Says

1. The Unfortunate Character Archetypes

Captain America, the fearless leader. Tony Stark, the smart one with a mouth. Hulk, the strong one. Black Widow, the girl. And Thor . . . whatever Thor does. Unfortunately, the characters in the Avengers have always come off to me as cardboard, only standing out by their fancy outfits and their powers.  Not by who they really are, by but what they can do.  They have always appeared to me as an elite breed of humans who aren't like me, which, in turn, make them much less relatable. Relatability is what makes or breaks a character, and, in my opinion, all of the Avengers are broken.  It's not that I don't feel for them, but they seem too plastic and molded to pop off of the page as individuals. 

2. The Boring Villains and Plots

Yeah, everyone loves Loki.  But why?  Only because he's attractive. Loki never seemed a force to be reckoned with - Thor could defeat him in his sleep.  Unfortunately, I never cared why he was evil, what he was doing.  Also, I never doubted that the Avengers could defeat him.  Ultron did seem like much more of a threat, but again, he lacked things that made a villain convincing and truly evil. 

And here, I just have one question: If the villain is already so evil and powerful, why do they need these huge armies of thousands that can be taken out by the Avengers with one punch of their fists?  As a distraction, probably, but that is just a weak plot device that every villain uses - and hardly ever works. 

To me, the Avengers always seemed to reliant on the action sequences.  The plot moved along based on the scenes with action, not the scenes based on plot or character development.  The heavy emphasis on the action shows how weak that the Avengers franchise truly is, whereas I was never under that impression in any other Marvel franchise. 

And Ultron.  Oh, Ultron. You were much better than Loki - whom everyone liked only because he was 'beautiful' - but not what was needed here. The Avengers are strong - they're human and they're flawed and they are a band of heroes who really need a strong villain to single-handedly oppose them.  Whereas I saw Ultron as a physical threat, I never saw in him the depth that a villain needs to resonate with me.  He was sadistic and menacing, but he never rang truly evil.  The best antagonists are just as human as the protagonists, but they have given in to their dark side because of internal or external forces.  And I very much enjoy that concept in a villain and a hero.  But the thing that made Ultron not stick in my memory was because he wasn't human.  He had no moral compass, he had nothing he cared about because he was a robot, he had no back story, and that's the problem with Ultron.  He was never a mental or emotional force to be reckoned with.  Sometimes, he was so sadistic, that he made me cringe and draw back.  So no, Marvel, you can do so much better with your villains.  

Take Magneto for example.  Magneto is one of the most amazing and flawless villains Marvel has ever created.  He is the main antagonist in most of the X-Men films, but he is never boring. Just, I don't even think I can fit the amazingness of Magneto into one blog post, so just, read up on him yourself and learn how to appreciate a great villain. 

Also, I have a post coming up about my two favorite villains, so stay tuned for that. 

3. The Glossy, Gaudy Universe, which Turned Sadistic in AoU

I feel like that the Avengers are more for kids, but X-Men is more for the mature teens and adults. All of the Avengers are elevated like gods, with their fancy suits and colors.  The Avengers are polished to a shine, and, I've noticed that they are over-glorified by the society that they save.  But I don't think that that's how our society would react.  Our society as a whole would be afraid.  Maybe the children and the individual people they save would love them, but the adults that are reading about them in the news, the government observing this, they would be suspicious, they would be afraid because of the power and advantage they have over the average Joe. This is one of the reasons that I like the Spider-Man movie franchise, is because they touch on this subject frequently. But the Avengers are these glossy, perfect people despite their pasts. 

And moving on to Age of Ultron.  I feel like the directors realized that the Avengers were lighter and fluffier than other Marvel movies, so they darkened the tone - a lot. Unfortunately, this didn't sell with me so well.  I found that I left the movie feeling depressed.  But with the X-Men movies, I never felt that way.  With all of the bad things that happened, I always left with that feeling of a greater hope. 

And we cannot forget the unfortunate case of Quicksilver and Quicksilver

Again, X-Men trumps the Avengers here. I felt that, however much they tried, the Avenger's Quicksilver, played by Aaron Taylor-Johnson, stayed flat to me. He always appeared to be just Wanda's minion, who, in turn, was just Ultron's minion. Pietro never had anything to him that made him jump off the screen.  Unfortunately, he was always just kind of . . . there.  He never had any stand-alone quality like all of the main Avengers have. The only reason I was sad that he died, because I felt deeply for Scarlet Witch, although I will admit that it was very tragic how he died. But his death was his only redeeming quality. And his poorly constructed back story only served as a plot device to get Wanda and Pietro on Ultron's side, yet this was entirely disregarded when  the Maximoff twins joined the Avengers. 

Peter Maximoff, played by Evan Peters, raced off the screen.  He stole every scene he was in, but was unfortunately shoved under the rug when his part of the story was done for. But Evan Peter's interpretation of Quicksilver was very entertaining and well done. He seemed very realistic to me, because he was portrayed as your average teenage boy, who just happened to have super speed. Like any teenager would, he used his powers not for good or bad, but for his own personal gain. This opened the X-Men up to the possibility that there are people like this all over the X-Men universe, making it down-to-earth. 

However, Taylor-Johnson and Peters both were given two different interpretations of a character, but the X-Men Quicksilver surpassed the Avenger's one. 

Again, these are all my interpretations and opinions. This is 100% biased because this is me and this is what I like.  But, in the end, The Avengers is a fun, action-packed movie for entertainment purposes, and Age of Ultron takes it to a darker level, and the X-Men is a gritty, intelligent movie that studies the human condition and hypothetical genetic mutations. But how much does it really matter, anyways? 

Hope you enjoyed this, nerds and geeks far and wide,

~The WordShaker