Frost's Blogger Help Guide...sorta

For most of you that don't know either Psych or I, you might think we were well informed before we started this blog. 


Not true, reader, not true at all. We actually began this more blind than we should have, but it's been a learning experience. 


For instance, did you know that by clicking on any picture on this blog it makes it bigger? 


Here's what Psych and I have figured out thus far:
1. The recommended background size does not always work (at least it didn't for us)
2. All you uploaded pictures are stored Here and can be deleted by going to organize ( helps to get rid of those doubles and what not)
3. The trafficking links make no sense at times.


Though, nearing 200 views (with just under 39% being from places other than the USA), I hope that Psych and I will get better this and will be able to give you more fun rants.

Even as I do this...I get more and more confused...Blogger...why you so confusing?

I iz bad at driving.

I'm really terrible at driving. Like I mean really bad.
I can't stay in the middle of the road, you say brake and I go instead. I can't stare at a stoplight for long enough so I end up getting honked at to go.
Frost, you may be in for a few days of demonic unfairness of cooking and children (which is soooooo stereotypical sounding!), but I'm in for waking up at stupid hours to drive with a guy I can't stand for an hour in a vehicle I can't control with too small pedals so when my right foot's on the brake it's also on the gas! :D Yay~ progress!
My hands were frozen to the wheel. One because the air conditioning was blasting on my fingers and two because he told me to go on roads I didn't recognize and on a 25mph road told me to go 50~
That's 2x the speed limit good sir, I think I'm SPEEDING.
It's like I'm playing Saints Row.
Literally.
And then he starts asking me these questions about things and I'm just lost and scared and confused and the only thing that can coherently come out of my mouth is...

And then I can't think I'm so confused and the question of "Is science tree?" comes to my head and I panic! And it's bad.... very very bad....
And now he tells me that I'm going to go on the highway Monday at 10am. Is was 8am previously... before I told him I'd purposely drive the vehicle into the river.
Stupid feet being too big... stupid left foot wanting to do everything....
I need to move to Great Britain cause they drive on the correct side of the road for my feet. And my hands. I turn and my left hand takes over completely. My right hand is like the small child told that they can't function in society so they have to sit in the corner. D:
That man and his squeaky brakes drive me up the wall. No pun intended.
The squeaky brakes last week nearly made my ears bleed. I had a headache for two days cause of that. My ears didn't want to hear and that's what they're made for!
Good people of the world... if you have squeaky brakes FIX THEM OR I WILL FIND YOU. And you don't want me to find you. There are two people in this world that you shouldn't get angry. My friend and myself. Squeaky brakes anger me. You don't want me angry.
I was 5 seconds away from punching that man in the face when we were done. 5 seconds. I left nail marks in the steering wheel. They're still there.
And I'm not impatient. I'm naturally happy nearly all of the time. It's actually quite difficult to get me angry. This here is just rage, I was 5 seconds away from hurting the man due to being enraged. There are only... 4 or so people who angered me enough for me to understand that I'm someone you don't want to get angry. First I saw my friend get absurdly angry and learned that they were someone who you shouldn't get angry. They're extremely nice too and friendly and fun and happy nearly always. Just don't get them angry. Or me.
I'm a very patient person. Test my patience.... and I will test how much blood you can lose.

Don't anger me. It'll be the last thing you ever do.

Is it me or...

Recently, several people have approached me saying I was "dark" or "scary", or "eerie", or just plain "odd". I'm pretty accustomed to it so it doesn't bug me.  Yet it made me ponder...what about me is so off that they feel they need to point it out, as if just to make sure I know. 


It also seems that when I say I am both female and a gamer, most males around me go from sheer shock (or lately dull amusement) to a vague suspicion. 


Furthermore, it seems to awe those around me that I am studying to become a teacher for Early Education(grades K-4). 


Either I'm full of surprises or the people around me judge a book by it's cover so quickly that I never had the chance to show them otherwise. 


No matter. While they're off thinking I'm summoning demons from the depths of Hell, I'll be slaying dragons and becoming the most amazing Dovahfrost The world has ever seen.

This will so be me...in all it's epic glory.

Wednesday: Create A Story!: Miracle Bubbles

Today is Wednesday! For this Wednesday we will be playing Create A Story! The rules are simple: Start/End with whatever sentence(s) are given to you. Each person has to make one sentence to continue the plot; a sentence that is coherent to the rest of the story. A theme may be chosen or a twist/something thrown in later on that the plot must meet at some point in time. General characterization can also be put in (i.e. gender, age, amount, yourself/others, etc). You can set guidelines or just go with the flow!

GUIDELINES

Start: It was a dark and stormy night...
Theme: horror
Must include: Miracle Bubbles.

STORY START

It was a dark and stormy night....


Several people went into the forest. There were an abundant amount of spiny trees. Lots of little eyes were staring down from said trees. The people were oblivious to them. They were more focused on the task at hand. Finding those gosh darn amazing Miracle Bubbles! They questioned what "Miracle Bubbles" were and how to find them in such a place. Yet, they persevered, trusting old man Craig had given them the correct directions to the area of the Miracle Bubbles. The old man had seemed crazy but they had no other leads to these mysterious Miracle Bubbles. The legend of the Miracle Bubbles had been passed down from generation to generation... until one day it was told to them and stuck with them. This legend, they remembered as the night became darker, had a dark secret.
Climbing through the branches they found their way into a clearing. The clearing was large enough for them all to stand side-by-side comfortably. This line up was important, for it was part of the odd directions old man Craig had given them. The group did so and watched as their efforts thus far paid off. It was suddenly quiet, despite the lightning flashing clearly in the sky, no thunder roared. The area around them grew dark and all shadows became one. The main psycho behind this original trek stood bravely in the centre of the group, reassuring them that their decision was wise, but when he blinked, they were gone. He looked about but there was no evidence of his allies; no sights, no sounds, they were completely and utterly gone. Thunder boomed ferociously above him, lightning flashing violently, illuminating shadows of figures in the forest for a brief second, long enough for him to tell something was out there... watching. His heart began to thud dully in his chest, his fear rising. Could he run? NO! He had neither the time nor the ability. The lightning flashed again, the dark figures now closer. He had but a second to react, which ended up being falling backwards. As his back hit the ground, the sky again brightened. The figures, twisting and turning in inhuman ways, had surrounded him. Looming over him, the figures' faces grew clearer. Their grotesque features made him want to heave up the taco he'd eaten earlier, which hadn't settled in his stomach very well in the first place. He again tried to flee. Arms shaking, he pushed with all of his might against the icy ground away from the closest abomination. The monster's clammy hands grasped his ankle as he managed to break away. It hissed at his escaping, it's breath able to corrode the fabric of his pants. The foul stench of his burning jeans turned his stomach further. An eerie voice escaped from the monster as its friends pressed down on his other appendages. He stared up at the beast, horror clouding his eyes. Were the Miracle Bubbles really worth this? Surely they couldn't be, yet the little voice in the back of his mind told otherwise. He wretched free on of his arms from the monsters and swung it at another, hitting it straight in the head, the head popping. Gore splashed onto his side, staining his shirt and producing a foul odor. The monsters groaned disapprovingly, yet they made no move to release him. They moved closer multiplying even, engulfing him until he could see no more... except for one... single... bubble. The bubble wavered a minute, shining in the unseen light, until it slowly, silently, popped. Those were the miracle bubbles; bubbles that saved you... with death.

That's freaky!
Indeed.


So! If you have any ideas for what we could use for a story line or any objects you want to see incorporated just leave a comment telling us what they are!
That's right, also, if you have any suggestions of rants, games or movies you want us to review, or anything else you'd like us to cover, feel free to comment or contact us.

RAGE

Psych, as you know, I work in a summer program for local children. It's non-profit and I earn volunteer hours as well as a cash "stipend", in return for my time. I have worked there fore 3-4 years in the Craft department. One year they also had me acting as nurse. Naturally now, They know I am dependable enough to call on in a time of need. They nearly overstepped their boundaries. NEARLY.


The kitchen group is part of a entire different system than the camp. They are run by the county and the state. So when our kitchen leader took a week off, we had no control over it. She left someone in charge and went on her own merry way. Until her monitor found out. The kitchen leader had not called in a vacation and had left without notifying her superiors. They threatened to remove her completely from the position. With no other volunteers above a legal age, I was the last one to depend on and save the camp ( the camp can not run without the breakfast and lunch we supply to the children). Of course, they put me in a position where either I'd be "that guy" that ruined everything, or I'd do something I didn't want to. 
It's safe to say, I don't like working in a kitchen.


Now you have to understand somethings:
1. I work almost full time at $2.08 an hour. 
2. The kitchen job is a minimum wage job.
3. The people who control this program (the kitchen) refuse to pay me.
4. The camp will not reward me for my extra work.


Upon learning that not only would I have to continue to teach Arts & Crafts, I would also have to prepare, order, and serve breakfast and lunch for the remainder of the program. Joy.


Today, however, we (the kitchen staff, the program supervisors, and myself) found out that instead of firing the woman who runs the kitchen,she would only be suspended for three days. Okay, that's good. I only have to work in the kitchen for three days now.  They still won't pay me and I won't be rewarded for it.


Good karma? The knowledge I gave up personal gain for the good of the community? I think not.

Puff is sick... :(

Puff is sick. She's been throwing up all day. No idea behind the cause, her tummy's just very very unhappy.
As is mine.
I can deal with it though. I just have to sit and not move and drink my ginger ale. Puff throwing up everywhere though isn't helping.
For you see, I've got one problem with her throwing up in the room I'm not in. I'm not in the room. And to my jerkface of a father that means he shouldn't have to pick it up but instead should come yell at me to.
At one point in time I swore there... but he's not worth it.
The mother hubbard has the idea in his head that she's MY pet therefore I have to take care of her puke no matter where it is. Truthfully that doesn't really bother me. What does bother me is that I just have to know when she throws up to come and fix the problem before it seeps into the carpet.
Except I can't because I'm not yet immortal and ultimately powerful. Whenever that happens I will gladly take the Puff off of his hands, most likely by chopping them off.
Oh I can barely name the amount of terrible things I wish to do to him. There's not enough blood in the world to keep him alive through all of it.
And my tummy didn't like that statement. Got some freaky acid reflex going on... Rolaids why are you not helping me...?
So I just went and was going to pick up some of her lovely yellow goopy puke when I heard her stomach growl loudly and she gave me a pleading look. So I put down the paper towels in hand and grabbed her, heading for the front door.
And he yells at me. "CLEAN UP the PUKE!" I responded with I'm putting her out before she throws up again. He just got more angry about it but I was successfully able to put her out. I came back in and left the door open so I could see through the screen door to watch her and make sure she went off the porch to go eat grass like the cow she is.
Instead she stopped and wasn't moving off of the porch. So I went to check on her and he yells again. "Clean it up before it soaks into the damn carpet!"
So I respond with "Why don't you?"
"Cause she's your pet!"
God do I hate that statement. She's "my pet" therefore whenever something goes wrong with her I have to deal with it. They can't deal with it on their own. He put paper underneath her so she threw up on it. It wasn't soaking fast. Yet the lazy prick wouldn't get up from his chair where he was watching a paused movie from to put a paper towel over the freely moving liquid remaining atop the paper and pick it all up and throw it away. No, we couldn't be a team on this. We had to be the tyrant and the slave.
That might be a dramatic metaphor, but it's true. It's bull crap, but it's true. No matter which animal it is, they suddenly become all mine, and I have to deal with each and every problem that happens.
So he's practically just using the animals like toys. I'll play with them for now, but if I don't want them I'm not paying any attention to them. He always tells me they're not toys, while I know I don't treat them as toys, yet he does! Maybe the poor reclusive nearly destroyed nice side of his brain is trying to knock some sense into his thick-headed stubborn self.
Every time I see any of my three pets I say their name and say something to them or pet them or give them a hug or something to show that I care. He does that to the Puff sometimes, but barely to the other two. Even when he comes home and they're super happy to see him (although lately they've showed less happiness or even attention to him coming home) he barely even says hi.
I wish college would let me take these guys with me, rescue them from his idiocy. My mom cares, but she gets home late and goes out a lot on the weekends/days off because she does crap in her life. He just... doesn't.
And now I have to go let my dog in. You got your butt up to come tell me that yet you couldn't walk the smaller distance from the chair to the door to get the dog?
There's a reason I will never talk to you again. My mom has poor taste in men, thank the lord that hasn't passed on to me. "There were worse ones" she always tells me. The last guy she dated must've been a bloody serial killer to make him look better than them. Actually, the last guy she dated is gay and in jail in Texas for unfair reasons. God damn it man... did you have to be gay? You're really nice.
My family... my life doesn't suck but my family does. Ugh...

Who could hate these three? 

Grave of Fireflies

Grave of Fireflies, a movie by Studio Ghibli, is a animated war tragedy. It follows Seita and Setsuko( a young man and his little sister) in their struggle for survival during the last two months of World War II in Japan.




...
I found one of the mottos for the main characters to be : "Oh! Look a bomb, lets wait for it to get close enough to hit, then run away".


This movie was 88 minutes of random plot points, random symbolism, and pointless scenes!


There was one scene where brother and sister went to relieve themselves behind some bushes...they saw a plane. I saw no point to that scene at all, nothing was found out, nothing important was said or done, it wasn't even a transition scene! 
They went to the bathroom behind some bushes, saw a plane, then went back to exactly what they were doing before that scene.


Okay, okay, so maybe not all of the scenes were necessary, but surely the symbolism means something! Right?!?...sadly, most of the symbols in this movie were either so shallow I forgot about them, or made little to no sense.


Fireflies- where the movie gets its name is from a single scene in which Setsuko captures fireflies to give the siblings light in their abandoned mine home. The next morning, the fireflies are dead within the bug netting. Little Setsuko creates a grave for the poor insects. A few other times, fireflies are caught or seen by the children. Setsuko even notes that some of the bomber planes look like fireflies in the air.
   Deep meaning: The children's dying innocence, the war.
   


Near the middle of the movie, Seita comes into possession of a wooden box. He gains this box after visiting the hospital/school his mother was previously being tended at. He hides the box from his little sister and carries it with them until a major plot point near the end of the movie. At one point this box glows eerily and  fireflies are shown going near it. I nearly jumped for joy. A symbol! A symbol! 
I was sadly mistaken. The box is soon forgotten and NEVER EXPLAINED. 


Okay, so it takes some common sense to figure out what the box was. 
His "mothers ashes". 
Though it's unlikely those were all of her ashes ( mass cremations were all too common during the war), but may have contained some of her ashes.
Seita most likely carries it around because it's one of the last things he and Setsuko have of their mother. 


I would have loved to have known this while watching the movie, not find out a week or so later while thinking about it. 






All in all, It was an interesting movie to watch and an okay story. The art was brilliant and vibrant, but the some of the symbols are hard to grasp when first watching it. I continue to re-watch it to find some inkling of why it has so much praise as a war tragedy, yet only find myself struggling to finish the entire thing.

I hate Math.

God dang it do I hate math. Sound's dumb, silly, stupid, yeah... but I'm just genuinely not good at math. Maths. Whichever.
I have gotten assistance on it, quite a good amount of times, but they never truly helped me. My 4th and 5th grade years I stayed after school quite often to try and learn better math. It didn't help. And my one teacher made fun of me for counting with my fingers. Which I still do. I'm just really bad at math and don't trust my head.

Math... why do you tease me? Treat me like I'm stupid? "If you answer correctly without help 2 more times, I will add this problem to your pie." Well thanks. I've gotten this message 8 times now... :(
On another note...

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS one more time! :D

Adventures in Crafting

Hullo there Psych, sorry to hear about your water problem , but I trust they got that sorted out already.


IF you read a previous post of mine, most of you know that I work with children at a summer program. I, and two others, work as the "Arts and Crafts" team. 


Oh joy, pint-sized humans running wild with glue, scissors, paint, tape, paper, and what-ever else they may have at their disposal in a tiny room that normally functions as a pre-school.
Joy, I say...Joy. 
We've done most of the normal "summer cammp" crafts; Windsocks, Salt-flour dough, Mobiles, Popsicle stick picture frames, Party poppers, Rainsticks, and all of the similar easy to understand crafts. 


Recently, however, my little team was assigned the grueling task of plastic lace weaving. They gave us several days to study the objective: bracelets. Known as "Boondoggles"( much to my surprise), these little woven beasts were a pain in the neck to understand. The instruction book kindly numbered the threads and gave little illustrations of what to do...much to our dismay. These little scribbles they called instructions were so obscure I think I learned how to make them by luck. 


The youngest of our tea, was the first one to get an inkling of understanding(only to find out today she was doing it completely wrong). I was the second and am currently the only one with enough knowledge of it in our team to teach the technique. 


Today I attempted to teach several children how to make these interesting accessories. Only two of them understood it at the end of it.






Looking back at the scribbled instructions, they make perfectly clear sense. And to my fingers dismay, weaving these bracelets has become my new cure to boredom. 

Look Psych! I have color!

I has no water! :D

Well, they're digging again. This time from third street to the river! Yay! What for this time? Well, they did the sewage in... 2005 (thanks to the writing in the pavement and my hand/feet print!), they just did the gas (digging up our driveway!) what's left? Water of course!
So I has no water.
It's not bad... except it's FRIDAY.
You can't see, but I'm shaking my head.
Friday? Seriously? Friday. The last day of work for the week most likely for you good sirs. Why would you choose to start on a FRIDAY? I don't hate that you have to dig up the old water lines and replace them, I hate that you chose to start on a Friday, which, may or may not lead to us not having any water for the weekend! It matters how well you patch it up! And it's been shoddy so far (literally, you dug up our driveway and left it open... you think we can't see that you just left it there? Really?) so you better plan on working over the weekend, water is, you know, useful!
Literally though, Friday? Why.... why?! I don't get it. If you would have started on the upcoming Monday I bet, I BET, you would have had it done by next Friday. And that's the whole street we're talking about. The whole two blocks to the river. There're a lot of crazy people living down here that you good sirs don't want to piss off because, well, not even a jackhammer could save you from them.
I would have a picture of terrifying angry people but Google's just not cutting it.
Also, why do I have to put multiple angry people to get a picture of more than one angry person? You know what people is right? It's the plural version of... person. Why do I keep getting only one person per picture? Are people just tagging it stupidly?
I digress, the lack of water must be getting to my head. Or not given that's not really what's bothering me. It's  just stupidity and greed I suppose that's got me fired up. If only the scythe I have could actually cut people up... well the stick could probably hurt them a bit.
Anyway, it's all hearts stars and rainbows here in the overcast area with a surprising lack of work noises coming from just up the street. Actually... let me check....
I see two people dressed in orange with no hardhat and hear faint sounds of a jackhammer. They have a diggy thing (backhoe?) parked off to the sides and a few angry truck drivers yelling at them but otherwise they appear to be working. Great. Now work faster. If I had the power I would make you work till dawn. But I know you'll be gone by three at the latest. Here at 8:30 gone by three. Six and a half hours. Hmm... both of my parents work 8 hours. Mother's a nurse for disabled children. And they get paid less than you while you do less work.
Suffice to say I'm a little bit sour about payment things. If they worked the same hours and got more done I might be fine with it. But they don't. I would know. All they did was construction construction construction on the park next door all year. I saw your work hours. You were there when I went to school but not working, started a half an hour before my mom left at 9, and then "done" but still there at 2:20 when school was done (the school is right next to the park, by the way, so we could hear and see their construction and destruction of poor trees for pointless reasons) Gone by 3. I know your ways. And I don't like them. I also don't enjoy when you let people who look, talk, and act my age or younger drive a smashy machine right next to my house which terrifies my poor husky. The boy was listening to music and texting on his cell phone while driving that. That which you left there for four months because you decided to tear the house down at the beginning of "winter" and then stopped when "winter" set in. Which it didn't. It was a false winter. Hot and cold winter. Twas not winter. Yet you still left it there.
I liked how my neighbors solved that. They called them up and said, "Move it or I'm decorating it!" :D Made me laugh. It was gone the next day. Although, they waited until the neighbor left for work to take it away. Them and their sketchy truck. I know what your truck looks like you sketchy sketchy man.
My dad's also going to be a prick and plant trees along the property line so that they can't build another damn apartment next to us in a year (we're the only 2 story building that isn't an apartment). Then the property owner will sell the land and they can build a pool or something. Buying it with the other neighbors who were going to decorate building equipment! Those people are nice. They have kayaks!
Hearts, stars, and rainbows for all, and au revoir~

Merry fricken Christmas.

First Wednesday Special! Unveiling of RFAP!

It's very close to the time that our channel will be fully functioning! We will be doing Wednesday specials thanks to Wednesday being so awesome and such.

Can't wait! :D


Joy, Friend...."joy".

There is no cow layer

What do zombies, skeletons, goblins, flying eyeballs,skeletal snakes,and giant walls of sinew all have in common Psych?


A game. 
A game named Terraria. 


Terraria is nothing new to many gamers and has sparked the great debate of Terraria VS Minecraft( to be explained at a later rant).




Terraria is, quite simply, a game in which you craft various weapons, armor, house items, and use it to defeat monsters, bosses, and mine for more materials. 
Monsters include: slimes, zombies, flying eyeballs, skeletons, demons, bats, "Eaters", harpies, wvyrens, and many more.
Bosses include: Eye of Cthulhu, Eater of Worlds, Skeletron, 
King Slime, the Wall of Flesh, and a few more as well. 


Most have written Terraria off as a Minecraft knock-off, while others have classified it as something else entirely due to the fact it is more adventure based instead of craft based. While more still have found it, played it, and soon grew bored with it.


Which greatly saddens me! 
A few days with out power but the keen planning of setting Steam in offline mode left me with time to kill and a neglected world in Terraria to adventure. I regained my unexplainable love for this game and spent the entire time until my laptop died playing it.


I beat bosses that had caused me to endlessly rage quit and ignore the game for days on end and found myself calling the game easy. Of course...I wasn't playing on hardmode. 


Hardmode is a little extra challenge for us gamers. It gives you no mercy. Once you die, your character is gone for good and resides as a ghost in the world that it died. Hardmode also introduces a new Biome, new bosses, and new materials. 
Has Frost entered hardmode in her epic Terraria quest? No! I know very well I'd die much too simply once entering hardmode, and would return to the normal rage quit and ignore game phase. Only this time...I'd have to restart a character completely. 

So, Psych, when the Blood Moon rises and the goblin army swarms your home. Are you prepared? 

Short, sweet, and stuck at a point I cannot continue

If I could write always, I would. But there are so many things in the world to write about it's hard to just choose one. Given some people are better at writing some things more than others, there are still endless possibilities.
I'm only saying this because I've been going through old drafts of stories and realizing how many ideas I have that are unfinished. They all have a joyous amount of interesting things thrown in that have beautiful storylines in my head, yet all seem to be stuck at places that just cannot continue. I have been stuck in places like this before and just skipped a bit ahead with the next closest plot point in the line. I don't like doing that though given I have the memory span of a tree stump so I forget they're there and end up finishing without necessarily finishing.
Short fun thoughts before I go to get new glasses... again.
I also suck at driving, but that's for another time.
Now a random picture!

I don't even know. :P

Why glasses, why?

I don't know if you know, Frost, but glasses are supposed to help you see clearly, you know?
Alas, the glasses I gained did just the opposite. They instead decided to help show me another reason not to use drugs by giving me a massive headache and causing the floor to get to my foot before my foot got to the floor. Stupid glasses.
They're a progressive lense, which means that they go from far vision you need to see in the middle/top of your vision and close vision to read so my eyes don't go wonky in the lower portion. Except these don't.
These glasses, here I'll put them on and time how long it takes for me to get a headache while describing them....
1:16
Immediately I'm dizzy and my vision's feeling all wonky. 
Staring at this page straight ahead the letters are fuzzy, which is the exact opposite of what glasses should do.
Tilting my head up only in the right side of my vision, the words "fuzzy" and "which" above are clear.
Tilting my head down, I can read it, but the green's showing a bit of yellow.
Already feeling a headache coming on.
Now I don't even trust walking, the floor comes to my foot quicker than my foot gets to the floor, causing me to stomp and stumble. Walking home with these was a pleasure.
It sort of feels like I stuck my head in a fishbowl. Everything's weirdly distorted and bothersome.
1:17. I've got a headache.
Staring through the middle of the glasses makes my eyes 1: go cross-eyed and 2: hurt. But I can see clearly right? Worth it right? Not for this headache. This has to be what it feels like to be high. Dizzy, disoriented, and with a bad headache.
Now normally I wouldn't be overly complaining about this, but for one, when getting my new glasses, I told them the floor would come to me before I got to it, and they said, "No, that won't happen! You just have to get a little bit used to them, that's all."
Except it has happened.
I told both the eye doctor and my mother who was overly insistent about this that that would happen. And now look, it did. I told my mother that yesterday. It happened, I told you. And she said she didn't know it would happen. She insisted it wouldn't. God she just doesn't listen!!
Looking up seems to be the only way I can lower my headache somewhat and see clearly. Literally to see the screen ahead of me clearly, and just these two lines here, I have to turn my head to the left and look out of the corner of my eye. That is not how I want to see.
So, for those of you with glasses that may or may not need progressive lenses, take this as somewhat of a warning. You may feel drunk and lost and gain an absurd migraine-level headache.
It's 1:25 and I absolutely refuse to wear these anymore. My head hurts so much my jaw hurts.
Almost ten minutes and I have that bad of a headache.
"Progressive" ... not the best word choice for this.
Well, I guess I get to get two pairs of glasses now. One for far sight and one for reading. Thanks eyes.
It'll help at least. 

God I love this face.
:D

A two part rant from Frost

I am not afraid of Kayaking, Psych, merely...do not wish to leave the comfort of my couch surrounded by my games and my technology.
However, I have been forced to leave my comfort and took a local summer job working with children (grades 2 through 6.


Taadaaa~ Subject of my rant today(Don't worry, I'll be back to ranting at games soon, my creativity for it is just missing).


I've found out two things so far in the program I'm working for:
1. Children are cruel and unforgiving things.
2. I gain a severe new personality when trying to talk sense to them.

Part 1: Children are cruel.

I'll admit that this is nothing new and most people already know this. Children are the hyperactive little beasts that we all once were. Yet, as I've discussed with many other people that work with me, the children we deal with are....not the usual bunch of kids you can use any sort of generalization for. These kids are young, energetic, and don't fear a bit of jail time. 
We have a curfew in this little town, right before 10 o' clock, the fire whistle will blow several times, saying anyone under the definition of "minor" is to be in their home, or with a parent or guardians. For most of these kids, I don't think they know what the curfew bell is. And that is the least of their worries,I fear to know what else they are doing other than wandering around the streets of a suburb (that is going down hill quickly mind you, we used to be a safe little town but that is all in the past). Several of them already have a bad reputation with the local police and they're only 12! 


Now, with your new, slight knowledge of those I deal with, I go on with my actual story. We have a new child in the program this year, he has a few mental problems but all of us that the program strive for his summer to be great. Recently, a few of the older children were teasing him and carrying on in ways that would anger him, frustrate him, everything we try to avoid for every child. While the rest of the group went outside, I kept the instigators behind and questioned them slowly on whether they had "heard" anyone teasing the little boy. They instantly responded "It wasn't us! and...uh...no..We didn't hear anything...". An answer little more then just suspicious. Having dealt with these kids for the last 3 or 4 years, they seem to forget I can recognize their voices. Having lied to the face of their superior, they felt pretty grand. The smirks and sneers they wore told me that. Until they realized I had heard them and it was very likely they were going to suspended from the program. 


Long story short : The little boy is doing better, the other kids now understand that teasing is not right to do for anyone. The instigating older children have been on a food strike for the last week and still hold a grudge against me for informing the main leader of the program of their actions.

Part 2: Personality swap

From similar situations as above, I have learned I gain a new personality when dealing with small children. Trying to be calm yet talk sense seems to be this new Frosts strong point. The odd point is, the children don't seem to notice the change. The adults around me, however, do.
It seems this new side of Frost comes out when trying to talk sense into children or dealing with superiors. She is light, and bright, kind without reason and not cynical at all. The complete opposite of the Frost most know.
Also, strangely, the original Frost is completely pushed to the side when the new one comes out. The new Frost completely takes over and only after her goal is either completed or failed does the original Frost's mind regain her footing and stare at what happened with an expression of " what the heck just happened and why don't I remember any of it". 


A case of good cop, bad cop?
Split personality disorder?
Or it's just me being weird and putting up a false face to please people.
Up to you what it is, dear reader, but for now I'll categorize it as "I'm being possessed from time to time and these actions are just the ghost controlling me".

For now, I'll just hide behind this mask and pretend like I have control over it.

Creativity.......drained

I feel very... empty now. Nothing's spinning in my head to get the creative juices flowing, which is a rare and discomforting feeling. I blame this book.
I've read.... 20 pages of this... and it's physically draining. It's... sorta interesting, I'm trying to get into it... but it's not working. 
It's historical fiction and, while history's never really bored me, it's... boring.
I don't know. It might be the way it's written. I know I've only read 20 pages of it, but... the first chapter is only three pages... and it took me a bit to read and longer to care. From the first to second and then to third chapter it changes times from when the main characters were older to when they were younger and then back to older.
The book's called The Last Letter, if you're wondering. By a new author I met a bit back who also signed it. It got the independent publisher's book awards. Recognizing excellence in independent publishing. It's sort of a mother/daughter love/hate getting over book based in the 1900s and late 1800s. Sounds sorta neat but... even the back of the book doesn't do it for me.
There're a few praising quotes on it, one from an award-winning historical romance novelist and another from  an author of two books I've never heard of. The first says that the mother is "strong and determined and her journey is heartfelt." I assume I have to get through the rest of the book to get that, but all I've seen is a whiny woman who can't seem to take care of her children. I've only read 20 pages, so my view isn't really valid, but it's not hooking me at all.
The other person said that she was blown away by the authenticity of the dialogue and setting. So the times met with how the characters act, which is good and all, but I'm just confused.
Alright, after a quick look through, she gets to "the last letter" at about page 200. In between where I am and that page, it's talk of the past and what exactly happened. I feel like it would have worked better if I didn't have to get more than half way through the book before the title, and main plot device, came into use.
I'm only being a little bit of a book critic because for college we have to read the book The Other Wes Moore, a nonfiction book about the two different yet eerily similar lives of two Wes Moores. One ends well, another ends in jail. I didn't think I'd be interested in it, but I can read it without being bored. Comparing the way they write (and the time period differences) Wes Moore writes with a much better feel to the words. It might be because the words mean something to him, but even as an author of fiction the words mean something.
So I just read five more pages. It whipped back into the past talking of the end of their little journey and I'm not seeing the "strength" the mother seems to posses. She's stated she feels lost and embarrassed, but she's showing no defense to that. No strength over that.
I might just be being picky... but it's drained me of anything. I need something else to get my creativity back up. Maybe some more Discworld or if more Catherine vids get put up tonight. Amazing stories both of those have, and a neat sense of humor.

Poor Rincewind... Death's always on his tail. :D

I love kayaks.

They're so much fun. That's about it. I love them. 
Went kayaking Sunday. Tired my mom the heck out but twas loads of fun for me. Soon enough we're going to get some Manatee kayaks. According to the kayak people we chilled with, it's nearly impossible to tip those kayaks. You really have to try. I had a war with a small child from India on the kayaks and he fell in the water (not on a Manatee) and I didn't. We were rocking like maniacs.
This is a blatant statement, Frost, that you will get into the kayak, you will not fall out unless you TRY (and try hard that is), so no, you will not bugger it up, you will not get hurt, you will not die if you do attempt to spin your way over (the opening of it is HUGE).

HUGE opening Fro.

You will not die. Why are my friends who can swim afraid of being in a kayak? Why? It's not dangerous. We can start on a lake if you want! I'll shove you out into the water (on the kayak!) and help you learn how to paddle. Really, you won't die. If you do tip over (which is less likely than the sun suddenly starting to speak to you) I will laugh and then assist you. If I fall over I will get out and get back into the kayak. :D See? Happy day!

Manatee, kayak

And just for reiteration purposes...