I can’t really function anymore, which is why I haven’t been posting. Sorry. We’ll see if this part of me ever wakes up again.
I have not died yet.
The other day we had a box of candy in our break room. Everyone took little handfuls of it, and at the end of the night, a girl was saying how hungry she was. My mind flashed to the room where I still had a handful of candy, so I immediately offered it to her in the case of us both finishing at the same time.
The tasks passed, but she hadn’t finished yet. As my friend went to the bathroom, I ran out to the girl and pressed the candy into her hands as she stopped in shock. Then she started laughing delightedly, still surprised, and thanked me with much more gratitude than was deserved for just a few pieces of candy that had cost me nothing.
Returning to the room, I looked into my bag and saw one remaining little chocolate. A man who would be staying the whole night was preparing to start cleaning the area, and since I knew the box of candy had probably been long empty, I asked him if he had gotten any. He told me he’d seen a girl finishing up the last of it just as he had come in.
I handed him my sad little chocolate bar, wishing I had more, when my friend came out and pulled more candy out of her bag to give to him. He refused at first, but we insisted. And he told us how much the gesture meant to him when other people rarely stopped to even talk to him.
As we drove home, I couldn’t help but crave a little candy myself. We stopped by the store before going home and, as is a habit of mine, I slipped my hands in my pockets — only to find two more pieces of candy I had apparently stuck in earlier.
These sweet little moments are the ones I’m grateful for.
I know you all missed me a lot, but the good news is that Triple A is back!
Asher, they don’t even know who we are.
Sorry, what? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of everyone celebrating our return.
(You’re not a hero here.)
Not yet, Archer. Not yet.
Hi everyone, we’re the first ones to be here on the AnaLog. I’m Archer; this dweeb is Asher.
I mostly go by Ash now. Sometimes Miles, my middle name, because as our lovely author found out as soon as we were in the same book, it’s easy to mix us up when you’re reading both of our names when they both start with A and end with Er.
We’re known as Triple A because we have another member of our ‘team,’ Auryon, who hasn’t really been in the tendency of having an online presence…
We used to have our own blog. Then El ditched us for this blog, because apparently she thought she could do better without us. Clearly she missed us too much to not have us on her blog anymore.
And this is going to be really long if we don’t go ahead and start to give some explanation of our beginnings, so we’re going to get started. Just in case you’re wondering where our writer is, she hasn’t been in the mood for writing, so she kind of left this up to us for self-introductions.
In any case, Ash, take it away.
…just don’t take it too far away.
Yeah, yeah. Hey peeps! I’m Asher Miles Pierson, AKA Ash, AKA Miles, AKA the most fun member of Guardians of New Earth? We took a poll on it before.
Which… you didn’t win.
What a jokester.
Huuummm where to start? Well, first off,
Archie Archer Archibald Archer (he doesn’t like us calling him Archie if you couldn’t tell) and I aren’t from your time period. El and her friends conveniently decided to put us in the year 3012, where WWV has just ended and the world is basically trashed! I grew up in a world of Nanopeeps, which are basically —
Okay, writer’s intrusion: cut me a lot of slack, because I was fourteen when these books were written. Nanopeeps? Very original, I know. Apocalypse in 3012? Cliché. But that’s what happened in their world, so I’ll let Ash continue.
— which are basically zombies controlled by an evil dude who later became our… Psht. You know what? If you’re interested in reading our books’ synopses, you can check them out here. I’m too lazy for this.
You guys didn’t used to be this lazy.
Call it ‘character development.’ Also, I thought you weren’t going to intr —
Alright, I get that you don’t want me here.
Anyway! I guess the most important information you need to know is that I have a twin sister, Ashley, and that I’m part of the Guardians of New Earth. Which is basically a club. Of young people. With superpowers.
Since when did you use the word do —
So basically, we’re superheroes. I can control metals with my sheer will. I can bend titanium with my bare hands! I have the power to —
Hi, I’m Archer. I’m technically from fourteen years before Ash’s time, but due to weird time bends and phenomenons, I’m now the same age and time as he and the rest are. I’m sure you’ll learn more about that later as we continue this AnaLog. My ability is to manipulate… well, it’s kind of unclear as to what I’m actually controlling. My best guess is that it’s some kind of combination of heat and light, which comes out most naturally in the form of a flame. At the same time, though, those can be further manipulated to —
Bingo, one major difference between the two of us: he’s a total nerd and I’m semi-cool.
(Geddit? Because he mostly uses fire and I’m cooler than he is??)
You guys have gotten into the bad habit of interrupting people.
…not to be sarcastic or anything, but who do you think we got it from?
That was very sarcastic, Archer. Also, friendly reminder that we’re used to having our own individual blog posts.
Bruh. You haven’t had the blog for four months.
Um… weren’t you too tired to participate in this…?
I was until I saw how badly you guys were botching it up.
Anyways, yes, these are my first two offspring of the pen.
Way to make it sound weird.
The third is A of Triple A is Auryon, a legitimately antisocial elf that they meet when — spoiler alert — the humans move from earth to another planet called NEW EARTH (whoa, the originality even scares me) at the end of the first book, Radiation. Which gave birth to the name, Guardians of New Earth. Since I wrote these books with two other friends, there are eleven main (er, mostly main) characters in the last two books, which gets chaotic, but these are my main three characters from there. You might get some brief references to the other heroes, but this is it for now. Thanks for your patience!
Nice to meet you! See you later.
And this is your first post from the AnaLog.
Peas out! (I love being able to say that again.) [I am legitimately happy he can say that again too.]
Hey there, a new category is coming to this website called the AnaLog!
I know. Please try to contain your overwhelming excitement.
It will be fun. For me at least. And I’m actually pretty excited about it; it means I came up with such a clever (haha) name for it, and it means I get to plan more actively for universe expansion, and it means you’ll get to meet some of my characters and their quirks and everything else. What is it exactly?
The AnaLog is going to be a series of posts/pages related to and expounding on my different story universes. It’ll take some time to catch you up on my favorites that I’ll be working with, but it’s fun because then I don’t have to be as creative since my characters can help with some of the work. (Weird writer moment.) It will also give you a break from my stream-of-consciousness boringness that my short ‘stories’ have evolved into lately. It might consist of interviews, random conversations, descriptions, playlists, fun facts, art, and more fun random junk.
What does this mean for you?
- You don’t have to listen to me ranting about random things anymore.
- You get to meet my characters and some of the places they hang out at.
- You have the potential to get fun ideas for your own creations.
Am I worried about people copying the information I post? No, because that takes the fun out of you making it for yourself. Am I also trying to convince myself out of being the paranoid human I can tend to be? Yes, so don’t break that trust.
Haha. My content is pretty unoriginal anyway.
So, that’s what the AnaLog is. I’ll likely be posting more frequently in this category from now on.
See you there!
A tear-stained windowpane is not an unpleasant thing to look through, you know. It glitters like pixie dust and shatters its colours into glistening diamonds. Its droplets sink like crystals down dark ravines, dark roots gnawing deeper into the glass. The tears go clink against the window as they fall for the world and its troubles. They fall for the world and all its horrible troubles. All its horrible, horrible troubles.
But they make something beautiful, even though you can’t see the world beyond.
Once the tears have stopped, a new, fresh life whispers beyond.
a mixture of cultures
until no one understands…
a hodgepodge of people
a fusion of nationalities
and never fully one.
the cultures grate against each other;
i can’t seem to
make them mix nicely
so instead they
until i wonder
what am i?
Have you noticed how much it usually bugs people when someone starts talking about how hard their life is? Human instinct seems to want to scream, ‘I’ve had it harder than you have,’ and the few people who aren’t self-proclaimed victims of terrible things are often shamed or outwardly envied for their nice, ‘easy’ lives.
I am yet an immature youngling, but here’s the thing about these pain contests to see who’s had it harder: it doesn’t end. Not everyone can understand your pain. Not everyone wants to understand. That doesn’t mean you’re alone or you’re some kind of victim and the entire world is against you. (I’m looking at many teenagers right now.) Yes, no one in your circle of relationships might seem to understand, but you’re never the only one going through some kind of situation. It’s naive to think so in such a big world.
Also, to those who tell others how easy their lives seem (and to those who have been told their lives seem so easy and blessed): it’s time to acknowledge that every person has had some kind of rough pain. People are broken and people hurt people and people get wounded. No one’s doing anyone any good by refusing to acknowledge the other kinds of hidden or unrecognized suffering everyone experiences some form of. And to be sure, there are different kinds of suffering. There are different kinds of losses and traumas. There are some that leave greater imacts on people as a whole that affect daily functioning. But no one’s perfect and everyone has some kind of pain.
That was a lot of generalization. Let me finish by generalizing the whole thing: everyone hurts. You don’t have to keep up the dumb pain contest in comparisons. You’ve got an ambassador who knows and that’s all that counts.
I was pretty ambitious as a kid.
In some ways. Always a dreamer, always imagining the great things I could do if only given the chance, just like any other kid. Of course, when it actually came down to action, I was pretty useless, but if I could have just been born in some other era, some other world, I was sure I could have taken back Narnia right beside the Pevensie children, adventuring beside them through the woods to the beavers’ dam to Aslan’s camp to Cair Paravel. Part of me believed I could get there through my wooden wardrobe. Opening and closing the door again never did the trick.
I started a club with my friends as a ten-year-old. ‘Children 4 God,’ it ended up dying as, after we went through several other interesting name options. I resolved that we would solve world hunger and end poverty right then and there, starting with whatever money we could contribute weekly. We used to rake in the dough from selling handmade crafts and old toys in our complex. The equivalent of eight dollars could buy us a lot at the local store. That club lasted about a day, and we never did end up solving any of the world’s problems. I found the other members’ lack of commitment and excitement rather disappointing.
Two years later, I dreamed of writing a novel and planned out my (non-)extensive storyline full of clichés. Children whisked away to a fantasy kingdom under attack. Becoming royalty. Leaving the world only to return in intermittent and unreliable spurts of time. (Somehow I related to that.)
Of course, I had been meant to become a published author at twelve, but my dedication failed me, and chapter two never showed itself. Instead, I would become like Christopher Paolini, and publish a full-fledged novel by sixteen, perhaps. Leave my mark there.
…not quite, when within months of completion all my novellas were a disgrace even in my own eyes.
Do Hard Things by Alex and Brett Harris. Surely I could do something like the teenagers they mentioned in their book. I had four years of teen-dom left. What had I to lose?
Nothing, but it’s questionable whether joining Changing Lives Ministry was the answer to my craving of doing something worthwhile and greatly impactful.
In case you’re wondering, I still haven’t done anything worthwhile.
To the world’s eyes.
Or much in my own.
I’m not famous. I’m not incredibly talented, either. I’m not extremely moral, or dedicated, or disciplined, or good-looking. Haven’t been in movies, made millions of dollars, been consistently on media, or given big talks at important gatherings.
I haven’t really done anything worth remembering. History certainly won’t remember this kid who can hardly remember what she had for lunch today.
I think that would have bugged the ambitious little-me. I resolved to change the world. The thought of doing otherwise disappointed me greatly. But as my mom always told me, it really is the little things that count. Little things like taking out the trash when no one else has. Little things like watching what goes into your eyes and ears. Little things like working hard even if no one’s looking.
Those are the things that won’t really be remembered. But those are sometimes the things that count the most, and even if the world doesn’t remember it, God certainly does. He’s the One you’re supposed to be living for anyway, right?
“Then the man who had received one bag of gold came. ‘Master,’ he said, ‘I knew that you are a hard man, harvesting where you have not sown and gathering where you have not scattered seed. So I was afraid and went out and hid your gold in the ground. See, here is what belongs to you.’
“His master replied, ‘You wicked, lazy servant! So you knew that I harvest where I have not sown and gather where I have not scattered seed? Well then, you should have put my money on deposit with the bankers, so that when I returned I would have received it back with interest.
“‘So take the bag of gold from him and give it to the one who has ten bags. For whoever has will be given more, and they will have an abundance. Whoever does not have, even what they have will be taken from them.”
Hey there, it’s your friendly reality check from your average insignificant blogger to remind you that you really have a lot to learn in life. So ask others for help when you don’t have all the answers.
-It’s fine to screw with English if it’s stylistic and purposeful.
-using no caps gives writing a more casual, personal feeling (and/or immature teen feeling but pft).
-Breaking up a compound sentence with a period is A-OKAY!
-Fancy notebooks don’t actually help you (and cost more money).
-Not everyone believes in the Oxford comma (but most editors do).
-There is a time for (almost) everything, including:
~Repetition of a word
~Fantastic breaking of many rules.
-Coffee shops don’t work for everyone.
-Neither do pen and paper / computers.
-Coffee is actually very bad for you, so even if you’re a writer, you shouldn’t be living off coffee alone (for Jesus said, ‘Man shall not live on bread [or coffee] alone…’).
-Fiction writing is an art. Do whatever the heck you want to get the message across in the most impactful way possible.
-Only you can tell when a piece of writing is finished. That’s up to instinct and input from others.