Ishara Studios Notepad

I'm not quite sure what it takes, but the most emotional times in my life tend to yield the most motivation for my writing. Granted, updating my story has for a while been simply a matter of posting the next chapter - I just never wanted to do it. I never seem to quite get the response that I hope for from the public, while my close friends couldn't care less about my texts. it's ironic, really, that something this important to me doesn't impact my companions in life, yet I can occasionally touch someone in a far-off place. I'll have to take solace in that... maybe I can manage to do it again someday.

There's also the fact that I'm terrible at writing anything sensual or erotic. Given the setting, I know it sounds out of place, yet it's how my book seems to flow here. More and more, I find that my characters are actually writing the books for me in my head. It should be a good thing, I know, but I don't have confidence in my ability to relate the tale in words all the time.

So now that i've whined a bit, I think I'll get to the true source of motivation: Kale. I don't think that I've ever read an author quite as legendary as he has become in my life. I feel that just about everyone who reads my work has read his stuff, so anyone who catches this may know him. I don't think I'll ever quite match his expertise, but after reading his text again over this Christmas break, I hope that I can find the energy to try.

And Kale, if you should ever find this, There aren't words enough to express the power of your works. I think only your Cheyne would know how to properly express the depth of my gratitude for your commitment to writing.

Now then, any encouraging words from the masses will make me ecstatic. Otherwise, take a look over at FF.n - Chapter 6 is nearly complete and posted.

Well, "Break My Fall" is complete already. I'd have it posted for everyone to read by now, too, if FF.net would allow me access to the uploading page. However, every time I try, there's a wonderful error message that greets me and tells me to go to the support group. Just be patient, and we'll have the new material up in no time.

Anyways, sorry for the delay, everyone. Chapter 6 information will come out next week - stay slinky until then!

TIC Note: There's gonna be a slight delay in the posting of "Break My Fall." Please be patient, and it will arrive in the next day or two. And now, for more from our favorite dead man, Zoroaster Inuji:

9/15

Today is Madelyn's birthday. She's not having a party or anything; just a nice time at home with Ivan, her boyfriend, and Ryan, her adopted son. Apparently, the kids in school have yet to get off her back about having a kid and a boyfriend, so the time off should really help her. It also turns out that there's not much I can do to help her after all, either to beat back the bullies or to win her affection. She loves Ivan more than I could have imagined, a bond which I wouldn't dare tamper with. However, I can't seem to break my gaze away from her whenever she's around. It's upsetting, really, how attached I got to her so quickly. She may not like me the way she does Ivan, but she is one of the first girls to actually say hello to me each morning. And she is the first girl to talk to me during lunch. I can't help myself - who wouldn't like a girl who's so sweet?

Ignoring all of my little pathetic emotional dependencies for the moment, I would like to make some more healthy comments about my feelings for Madelyn. More than simply liking her, I have to admire her. Students in school treat her worse than they've ever treated me, yet she has taken it all in stride. That is, aside from that first encounter with the class. But then, I couldn't blame her for slipping there - she didn't expect that kind of a reception. Her true self has since come to light, a person even more formidable than I imagined. She even managed to counterattack one girl this afternoon with the help of a dog's leftovers. It was a hilarious sight to see when I was leaving school.

I know I'm being brief in my full emotions, but I'll come back and detail them in Sunday's entry. To write them all down now would make me daydream too much. I do have work to get done for my parents, and my mom in particular is getting impatient. Not that I mind; you know how much I love my parents. Until next time, I bid farewell to thee, my archive.

-Zero

There's a picture that connects to the following story, showing a black boy leaning against a brick wall - a cliché tough guy pose. There's a great deal of light and dark cutting across the scene from the shadows cast by the setting sun. As you walk into the alley, this person turns to look at you; at once, you are accosted by his thoughts:

"You think you know me? You've never even met me. You don't know me. You just judge me, like you'd judge anyone leaning up against this wall. A downtown alley, a place for only dangerous people: bums, thieves, and murderers. Or is it my clothing that leads you to categorize me so quickly? The tight jacket and pants, they're the cloths worn by guys that are up to no good. Perhaps it's the color of my skin that sets you off. 'He's not white like us. He's a minority; he must be trouble.' You act like this is the true substance of a person. Well, here's a news flash for you - it isn't. I could be standing on a palace balcony, dressed in the finest attire. Would that change who I really am? Though perhaps it's different with you, the physical world hardly influences my personality. That would be superficial. What comprises my real being isn't what you can see. To know me, you'd have to quit being so afraid of me. Then maybe you would talk to me... Then maybe you would see the tears behind my eyes, or the bruises beneath my jacket.

"After what's happened, I'm surprised anyone has dared venture down here. But then, you probably didn't see what happened. It wasn't anything too unusual, but it's not something I expected to encounter on my way home from a friend's house. We'd been talking about how there have been too many reports of violence and death in this city. We were trying to brainstorm some sort of civilian security group. Our ideas weren't much, but we got a couple things down on paper at least. Of course, it's just my luck to run into the very force we were concerned about. Whether it's something I was born with, or a curse I've gotten, I always seem to end up in the wrong place at the wrong time. This was just a more severe incident.

"Once I left my friend's house, I noticed that a couple of people were walking the same way I was. They didn't look out of the ordinary when I glanced back at them, but I could feel their eyes watching me. Their pace kept with mine, another warning. More bodies joined them, and even as I started to move faster, they kept the same distance behind me. Turning a corner, I found two more people standing on the far side of where this alley hits the street, waiting for me. It's a sickening feeling when you realize what you're in for. My initial reaction would have been to run and scream, but the innate inhibitions I've earned from living in this society pinned such responses within my chest. To flee from the scene usually results in worse punishment later, and to scream would have made them all the more anxious to mete out their blows before someone from the street intervened.

"To their credit, they made their assault quick. A few punches from each man, a couple kicks, and countless scornful words. A rush of vengeance surged through me, but again I restrained my primal instincts. Struggling only earned more severe clouts, I knew. With the same whirl of motion with which they set down upon me, the pack of men vanished from the alley, leaving me alone on my hands and knees. My breath came back after a moment, and with an effort. I regained my footing and leaned against this wall. I haven't moved since, though I've noticed the glare of the sun make its way across my face. The pain has subsided to a dull ache now, weighing down on me less. But then, pain is something I've grown used to living with around here. This city is a dangerous place to live, which is probably why you get such biased views about people you don't know. But maybe it's that lack of attention that puts us all in such straits.

"Now the vigilante in you may have risen up, crying out for justice against the people who attacked me. There is no revenge I would inflict upon suck people, even if I were given the chance, so relax. They're people, just as I am. Regardless of how they live their lives, people are people. I don't wish to hurt them - I want to understand. Why should we get along so terribly? Maybe we're different. They've ot light skin; mine is dark. I come from one land, and they hail from another. We have different things that we need and value in life. But, even though I've never even met these people before, it's obvious that they hate me. I haven't done anything wrong, unless the law has suddenly changed and walking along the street has become a crime. They punched me, kicked me, and shouted at me. Why should we get along so awfully?

"It feels like the atmosphere around here really has changed. When a man walking along the street can experience such agony at the hands of others, while the rest of the world carries on, then something must be wrong. Believe it or not, there was once a time when every person depended on one another to survive. Why has that changed so drastically in only a few short millennia? I can't understand it. What could make a man hate another man, simple on principle? Help me understand. Then, maybe you can understand how your own views of people you see sitting in alleys are only worsening the situation."

Sometimes I wonder if I'm just updating here for my own entertainment. Nevertheless, I'll keep the records here to make sure that I don't fall behind in my performance. I just need to stop hoping for any comments, I guess; it's a step I'm ready to make, I suppose.

So, I did it again - I beat the deadline for Chapter 4. Only by a day this time, but that's better than nothing. Now I'm working on Chapter 5, and that should be on time without issue. Everyone (read: me) can look forward to a much more productive season come summer, when I won't have constant draws from school to detract my interest in writing. No more essays to cramp up my hands before I get to the computer.

Okay, here's the refrain:

Current Book: 3 (Rancor)
Next Chapter: 5 (Break My Fall)
%Completed: 15
EDC: 5/30/06

Yeah, not much has changed, but just wanna let you know that I'm on schedule. I'll have more about chapter 6 once I start some legitimate work on 'em. That'll happen soon enough - I promise! That one will probably come out a week or two after Chapter 5. And then, ideally, I'll get on some sort of weekly release schedule; wish me luck!

9/5 (2003)

Ahhh, the first entry for my sophomore journal; an exciting new turnabout. Last year's archive has been laid to rest with the others, and now a new chapter of my memoirs, so to speak, is begun upon these pages. I've never been one for lengthy introductions, and seeing as this is only a continuation of my records, I guess it's not too important. With that, I'll get on to the actual point of my archives - recording the day's events and reflections.

As I mentioned before, today was the first day of a new school year. I entered the tenth grade, and everything there was much as I had expected. The same students who find more interest in gossiping about the latest party of the most dramatic break-up than the classwork, the same teachers who find more interest in eavesdropping on these conversations than keeping the class in order, and the same building that threatens to collapses in upon itself with each step down the halls. Seriously the structural stability of that place always frightens me.

Strangely enough, I really came to miss all of those things after the lengthy summer recess. Only so much time can be spent alone with oneself before it becomes too much like solitary confinement. Even walking outside in the park comes to have an unusually constricting feeling about it. As such, I'm happy to endure the mindless chatter of my classes as an escape from my otherwise profound, introverted emotion. To add to that, I got to have a rather unique experience: meeting a beautiful, kind girl. Her name is Madelyn. Rather pretty, isn't it?

I was in history class when it happened. Madelyn was a new student in the class, so she was giving her formal introduction at the front of the class. Before I knew what had happened, everyone was assaulting her for being this horrid person with an equally disgusting boyfriend, and an illegitimate child. Madelyn burst out of the room and I couldn't help but follow; she was so cute when she first came in and seemed so nice that, coupled with the fact that I hated my classmates anyways, I wanted to help her. I found her huddled against the wall opposite the classroom, crying. I managed to get her to smile after a while, and she actually let me be close to her. It's funny, considering that I've only known Madelyn for a day, but everything about her seems to be simply perfect. I'm aware that she has an actual boyfriend, but I can't help wanting to be around her. It's disappointing, really, and a little frustrating.

Anyways, I got her back in class for the rest of the period and she kept glancing back at me, smiling. It's one of the first times that I've felt important to someone else. It feels great. I hope I can stay important to her for the rest of the school year. Maybe even important enough to overshadow her boyfriend...

-Zoroaster Inuji

I've decided that it's time for me to post some off-digimon updates here. Last month, I was recruited to deliver the sermon for the Youth-led worship service in my church. Being the only senior that attends the church regularly, I was a fairly obvious choice, and I was happy to oblige. Despite the several personal issues that decided to erupt at the same time, I believe that I created a decent dictation for the church. So feel free to read through it; I assure you that it's not a preachy sermon, as I'm not preachy myself. There is a powerful and important message, however, as far as I'm concerned. Anyhow, enjoy! Feel free to reply, too; it's always nice when people reply.
(Note: the document is slightly tweaked from its original format for easier, more comprehensive reading; edits that I made subconsciously as I delivered it, too)

"An Exploration"

First Congregational Church, Melrose, MA
April 30, 2006
by 'Ivan Ishara'

The story of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden is famous and, nowadays, kinda cliché. Nevertheless, the story strikes a chord with me every time I hear it. The story of Eve's temptation illuminates the world for her and, simultaneously, sends her and her husband on a remarkable journey form the Garden. Eve "woke up" on that day, even if it was a rather rude awakening. Now, to keep perspective on this idea, I'd like to tell you another story about temptation.

Philip Pullman is a science fiction author with a passion for questions. In his novel, The Amber Spyglass, Pullman uses an alternate dimension to analyze the key aspects of this type of awakening. On this world, the conscious creatures are quadrupeds with a diamond body frame. That is, they have a leg near their front and a leg in back, and then a leg on either side near the midsection. This bodily format is beyond strange to us, but it's still important. Please listen now to Pullman's story of the awakening of these creatures, who are known as the Mulefa:

"One day, a creature with no name discovered a seedpod and began to play, and as she played she saw a snake coiling itself through the hole in a seedpod, and the snake said... 'Put your foot through the hole in the seedpod where I was playing and you will become wise.' So she put a foot in where the snake had been. And the oil [of the seedpod] entered her blood and helped her to see more clearly than before... She wanted to share it at once with her kindred. So she and her mate took the seedpods, and discovered that they knew who they were... They named themselves... and all the creatures and plants... They saw that they had to plant more seedpod trees for the sake of the oil, but the pods were hard so that they seldom germinated. So the first Mulefa saw what they must do to help the trees, which was to ride on the [seedpods as] wheels and break them, so Mulefa and seedpod trees have always lived together."

Now, I know that this story may sound bizarre to most of you. Simply picturing a creature with such and odd body structure is daunting. However, this tale is a temptation myth, just like the story of Adam and Eve that we just heard. Both stories have a female tempted to action by a serpent. And, in both stories, the creature falls to the temptation. The key difference between the stories is the outcome of the events: while Eve and her husband were punished for their decision, the Mulefa are given a profound responsibility. Now that they have gained awareness, they are forced to maintain a symbiotic relation ship with the great trees and their seedpods.

This alternate conception of our temptation offers a converse thought about our exile from Eden. Losing paradise is not at first a desirable sentence, to be sure, but these consequences are not necessarily intended as punishment. Rather, Adam's sentence to be "sent forth from the Garden of Eden, to till the ground from which he was taken," was perhaps God's way of telling us to take on tangible responsibility. Just as the Mulefa accept their responsibilities and live on happily with their consciousness, humans have come to survive exceptionally well in the world without paradise for support.

Bad news always sounds worst when it is heard for the first time, be it the loss of a job, the end of a relationship, or the death of a loved one. In each case, it's easy to assume that God is simply punishing us for something inadequate that we did. The truth is that God does not punish us in that way. In fact, God is always with us, happy to lend what support he can. Regardless of how intangible God's embrace may seem, his love is undeniable. The Lord is not a heartless punisher, but rather a compassionate father: though what happens in his plan may hurt, his decisions are "for our own good" in the end.

In this same light, the fate of Adam and Eve does not need to be perceived as a dire punishment that we are to suffer eternally. There are other interpretations with great levels of merit, such as the myths that Phillip Pullman creates. With his wonderful setting in a science fiction world, Pullman can easily create the race of the Mulefa and give us a whole new perspective. And what a great perspective that is: to think of our original sin as an acceptance of responsibility, rather than a condemnation to suffering. The concept not only explains all of our struggles, but also generates a whole new way to explore life. Also, this story leads us into a new string of questions: What is my responsibility? Where can I find more about it? How can I fulfill this responsibility that I have? Or, for the skeptics, what on Earth is this kid talking about?

These questions are a great way to open up one's mind to a religious awakening. And though we can look to the Bible for explanations, there are also other sources that we should tap. Pullman may be a bit extreme, but alternate myths of creation and temptation each offer their own separate piece of insight. Now, sure, the thought of crossing religious lines may be a scary idea. Isn't that treason or something? Our loyalty should be to this church, this belief, and nothing else. Right?

Loyalty here is great, but only after you've done some personal exploration and consideration. Asking questions is a proper and healthy way to grow in faith. Only by asking questions can we hope to truly wake up to the glory that God shows us in everything and everyone we encounter. As scary as the prospect of stepping outside of our comfortable pews here may be, I make the challenge for everyone here to read on the beliefs of another faith. Find out what meditation means in the Buddhist religion; report back to me on the series of festivals that the Jewish faith holds. And will someone please explain to me why the Hindu God Shiva has so many arms? I assure you that I have plenty of questions, too.

The truly scary idea is if we isolate ourselves from these other religions and, as a result, from other cultures. That practice of solitude is a dangerous path for the human race to take. When people are separated by beliefs, the chasms of difference between each group form all the more stress in our environment. Division runs counter to the love that our religion emphasizes, and instead yields to the easy solutions of anger and argument. Division inspires hate. Division inspires jealousy. And, ultimately, division inspires apathy. To live on this world and be so separate from one another that we don't care about what happens to anyone but ourselves is an exceptionally intimidating future.

Love is vital for our growth and awakening. That love will be out of our reach if we cannot take the steps to explore other ideas and investigate alternate systems of belief.

Explore.

Question.

Investigate.

Be brave, and soon enough you'll be hearing an alarm clock. I promise you that this kind of alarm will not present itself as a blaring buzz or an obnoxious series of beeps. This kind of awakening will be far more pleasant, far more fulfilling. Finding this personal calling to answer, be it a punishment or a responsibility or a precious gift, will allow you to feel infinitely more complete and infinitely more connected with this world. And maybe, just maybe, after your long exploration, you'll fall in love with your faith all over again.

So, yours truly gets to take a break before his final two AP exams on account of a break. Concussions are certainly no way to begin the week, but I persevere. In fact, you all can be pleasantly surprised that I beat my deadline by over a one-week margin. And, just so you know, the fun isn't about to stop. Chapters 4 and 5 are both already underway. So, for all you impatient folks, let's get to the quick updates:

Current Book: 3 (Rancor)
Current Chapter: 4 (Cling and Clatter)
%Completed: 20
EDC: 5/21/06

Current Book: 3 (Rancor)
Next Chapter: 5 (Break My Fall)
%Completed: 10
EDC: 5/30/06

Ambitious, perhaps, but I'm getting psyched about where this novel's gonna go. Loads of fun are on the horizon, including a slew of cliffhangers and suspense. With any luck, this whole novel will come together as I have envisioned it and, if it does, the book shall be quite the spectacle to behold. I admit that my writing is a bit rusty, but muscle memory will bring everything back to me soon enough.

Now, if you find yourself to be getting impatient while waiting for my next chapter to come out, I have a proposition. The studios here are in desperate need of some beta-readers, most of whom from my last production have since jumped ship. I don't blame them, honestly, as the pause in between was exceptionally long. However, I sincerely hope that some of you avid readers may be willing to step up to the plate, as it were. I'm afraid there's no budget to pay for the positions, but if anyone's interested in enlisting as a beta reader for my work, please send me an E-mail at laejc@hotmail.com and let me know. I'm hoping to have about three readers for a fairly permanent basis. That way, I won't have to turn to my friends for advice and editing; they're all far too busy as they are. So drop me a line if you're interested; I love all the feedback I can get. More responses only means that I'll be that much more motivated to get these books posted up.

Oh, and a last note. I uploaded a second icon finally. I'm disappointed that my notebook doesn't present the images, but you can still find it in my bio. In any event, I figured it was a fitting picture for the revivification of my work. TK's sweatshirt reminds me of my own college sweatshirt, though my picture of that would kinda be lacking the beautiful girl in pink. No matter; enjoy the drawing, and I'll get back to working on the next chapter of Rancor.

Don't forget - E-mail me for information about beta-reading!

-Ivan Ishara

Well, it's been quite a while since I've really written any long, coherent literature. I feel a bit out of practice, to be perfectly honest. Nevertheless, I'm happy to finally return to this environment of reading and writing. Through this kind of work, I really feel that I can acquire a better perspective on my life and intentions. I enjoy the sensation immensely, and I'm exceptionally glad to be back. And maybe, just maybe, my life can all fall back into place once again.

Now, for the ever-desired update info:

Current Book: 3 (Rancor)
Current Chapter: 3 (Sunday, Bloody Sunday)
%Completed: 40
EDC: 5/17/06

Yes, I'll include years from now on. I can't apologize enough for a year of radio silence, so to speak. I was not engaged in any covert operation. I was simply lost in experience. A dangerous trend to fall captive to if one is not careful, I might add. Now then, no more progress will be made on the book tonight; the rest won't be too far in coming, though, I promise; I actually hope to beat my deadline this time!

The classroom was full when Cassidy looked around. Mrs. Rundow had also come in; she called for the attention of the class. She read a statement on the new guidelines that the administration had put together over the summer. Cassidy only paid partial attention, instead focusing on how she would manage her course load. She had her obligations at work and her extracurricular activities to think about as well. Mrs. Rundow made more announcements, explaining the basic rules of the school as if the class was full of new students.

“I know you’re all seniors and have heard this before,” Mrs. Rundow said. “If it wasn’t mandatory that I repeat myself all these years, I wouldn’t. The main office wouldn’t like that, though. Just stick with me for a little longer.” Cassidy never looked up from her desk. Her eyes had glazed over, focusing on an indefinite point on her paper. The sound of Mrs. Rundow’s voice and the subtle murmur of students went completely unnoticed. It wasn’t until the buzzer for classes sounded again that Cassidy looked up. Mrs. Rundow was ushering the class out of the room, reminding them to go to their first period class.

“Singing first thing each day shouldn’t be so bad,” Cassidy mumbled in a poor attempt to comfort herself. She followed the line of students out into the halls, which were filled with activity once again.

The chorus room hadn’t changed any since Cassidy had last seen it. Moreover, it hadn’t changed since she first entered the room for class three years ago. The room was slanted upwards like a lecture hall and contained rows of chairs. As with most of the classrooms, the walls were whitewashed and plain. A set of windows adorned the high wall, letting in light while being too high to see anything but the sky. Piled high with music books, a piano was tucked neatly to one side of the room’s lower wall, opposite the entry door. A routine blackboard and a large desk stood at the center of the low wall, the latter of which was being used by a brown-haired, balding man with a slim build. One of his hands supported his head over the desk as his other wrote furiously on a sheet of paper. He paused occasionally, falling into thought about what to write next. His pale blue eyes were focused and calm.

When she entered the room, Cassidy smiled to herself. She walked briskly over to the man, standing by his shoulder. “Hey, Mr. Trauss,” She said abruptly and cheerfully. Mr. Trauss looked up with bewilderment in his eyes, his concentration broken. He was bewildered, that is, until he saw Cassidy grinning at him. He returned the gesture and stood from his desk.

“Welcome back, Cassy,” Mr. Trauss said genially, “you look just as stunning as ever.” Cassidy smirked, shaking her had from side to side. “How’s that voice of yours holding up?”

“It’s holding,” Cassidy answered with a shrug. “There’s no real way to tell until we put it to the test, though.” Mr. Trauss nodded.

“We’ll put it to the test soon enough,” He assured her. “I’ve found some really pretty pieces for this year, but some are very complex. I hope you’re ready for it, being one of my best soloists and all.” Cassidy dropped her gaze to the floor.

“Don’t patronize me,” she replied, “I’m not that great.”

“Says who?” Mr. Trauss challenged.

“Says me,” Cassidy replied, her eyes looking up to meet her teacher’s. Mr. Trauss looked at her with feigned disbelief.

“I don’t believe it,” Mr. Trauss said indignantly. “The wonderful Cassidy Landen, the lead role in two separate musicals and master of solo pieces in the school chorus, not a spectacular singer? It’s preposterous.” He waved his hand dismissively. “I won’t hear of it,” He told her.

Cassidy couldn’t help giggling at her teacher’s act. He had once again proved why she enjoyed his class so much; he broke the monotone gloom of the day. “We can argue it after class,” Cassidy said in closure. She then ran to an empty seat in the soprano section before Mr. Trauss could reply. He blinked, and then shook his head as he walked to the front of the center aisle. She could see him chuckling from her seat.

“It’s good to see you all again,” Mr. Trauss said to the classroom. Though amplified by the shape of the room, his voice was very forceful. No student had trouble hearing him. “I know you all miss the nice, warm days of the summer. It’s one of those things we learn to deal with, though. After all, I don’t think too many of you are going to head into the field of teaching. You all better get ready for two weeks of vacation a year.” The class groaned, much to the teacher’s amusement.

“Don’t think about it too much,” Mr. Trauss went on. “For now, let’s get some singing done, shall we?” The class mumbled its consent softly. “Oh, come on; that’s not going to cut it here,” Mr. Trauss said with a shake of his head. “Everyone, stand up!” A shuffling of cloth and rising bodies ensued. “Now let me hear some energy out there. Let’s get some singing done, shall we?” The reply was far louder, but also beyond being intelligible. Mr. Trauss smiled. “Let’s try a song we all know, then.”

Mr. Trauss strode to the piano and sat down on the bench in a melodramatic, ceremonious manner. He cleared his throat and flipped through the various music books on the piano. Then, with a smirk, he came to one song that piqued his interest. “Okay, ladies and gentlemen, sing along when you recognize the words. We haven’t done this piece in a while, but you all must remember it. Think about all of our fun last year with trying to work the A Cappella version. On the count of three, boys and girls, ‘I’m Sorry.’ Sing it out, now.”

Cassidy rolled her eyes, laughing with the rest of the class. The song was hilarious, and the class’s rendition never ceased to amuse Mr. Trauss. The piano began to play a light and jumpy melody, and the students fell in line with the lyrics.