Confused

Well I'm very confused.

A Few More Lines

Well, once again, it is time for a few writing snippets. First one is from my European Govt paper. The second is me writing for kicks. And the third, as of right now, has not been formed.

The Frankish kingdom came into being after the Battle of Soissons in 486 A.D.. The Frankish king, Clovis, effectively took control of the Roman province of Gaul, established the Merovigian dynasty, and began to incorporate the remnants of Roman traditional government (Dictionary of the Middle Ages 8:277). These traditions included Roman taxation and administration. Clovis also cultivated the image of himself as a defender of Roman traditions and culture (Dictionary of the Middle Ages 8:277) In 498 A.D. Clovis was baptised into orthodox Christianity and received imperial recognition in 507 A.D. This event was one of the defining moments in the relation between Church and state in Europe because for the first time, a secular leader used the Christan faith as a means to enhance his image and solidify his control. This control didn't last long, however.

She sat alone in her library, curled up on the black leather couch, reading her book. Outside the long, glass window that covered one wall, the storm raged. Rain beat against the panes and lightning bolts flashed above the far-off hills. Thunder crashed, and she huddled closer into the couch's welcoming arms. Here, surrounded by walls of books, she knew she was safe. Behind her, a huge fire roared, providing that bit of comfort she desperately needed. After the storm had continued for a while, the door swung wide and a man entered. He walked to her and placed a mug of hot chocolate on the table next to her. She smiled up at him. He went over to one of the shelves, pulled down a beautiful hardcover and sat down next to her. They read together for a long while.

Oh gravity thou art a heartless bitch
Always pulling down those who wish to soar
We ask and pray that we may have strength
But for what
You are the law and there is no way
To best you
We must learn to live with you
Or we may perish

A Great Writing Experience

Tonight, I had a wonderful experience. While hanging out in the tech booth, working a show, a friend and I sat down together to work on a story idea. (You heard some here.) We spent maybe thirty minutes in silence, passing the laptop between ourselves, working on the same story. And it was a truly wonderful experience. I got to write something with another person, sharing their ideas and becoming more acquainted with their style. It was wonderful. And really, really helpful. We had this story idea, together, over the weekend. I started working on it a few days ago, but found I was having trouble writing believable dialogue, always a problem with me. So I brought it to my friend, she took a look at it, giggled a little, and then dived in to rescue me. And the writing is much more articulate and the dialogue sounds more believable. Here's an excerpt:

Silence filled the shabby football arena.

The wind had picked up by now, and more then a few hats were being blown about. The monstrous alloy poles that held the blinding area lights swayed precariously. No one noticed. They sat silent. Then the teachers began to collect their classes. Students and teachers filed out of the stadium, every person passing by Michael's cell. Some looked in on him, most walked by without stopping. A small group gathered around the cell. The students stood there silently, judging him. Clouds had rolled in, and a few drops of rain had started to fall.

One by one the students made eye contact with their fallen comrade. Looks of nearly every emotion danced in their eyes. Some felt anger and resentment, some had looks of pity and remorse. But the look in everyone's eyes was confusion. A cloud of pure conclusion swirled eerily above the select members of the student body.

And the Wind Stopped...

He sat in his cell, his back to the cold, cement wall. Outside the wind howled and the rain fell hard against the steel bars. Outside the window, battered by rain, stood His peers. Silently judging. One by one, they all turned their backs on Him and walked away into the storm. After a while, only one person stood alone in the field. She pulled up her hood, and before she too turned away, she held His eye for a second. All day the wind roared outside the door. He sat in his cell, cold, wet, and tired. And alone. Days past and the wind did not let up. His peers went about their lives, already He was a distant memory. They thought nothing of him, except the one girl. She returned to the edge of the field every day, and watched Him slowly wither into nothingness. She came to watch Him, but never did she speak to him. She just stood silently, an observer.
One day, long after that first rainy night, she came again to visit Him. She stood on the edge of the field for a long time. Finally she summed up the courage and walked slowly over to his cell. She stood in the doorway, gazing in on Him. Their eyes meet and she whispered, "We turned our backs on you...we walked away." Then she walked away from him. The wind blew harder. The next morning came, and the wind still blew. All his peers went about their lives, barely noticing the wind anymore. Around midday, the wind stopped. And she alone knew what had happened...

Suffering and Prayer

I recently (2 hours ago) finished a video project on the Holocaust. It addresses both prayer and suffering in way that, I think, gives you something to think about.