Today I have a little poem for you all, and it was inspired by a fantasy middle-school/young adult novel series that I am writing and have been working on since the fifth grade. I haven't finished the series yet, and some days I get really discouraged to the point that I want to drop the idea, but perhaps someday it may stir in me once again the feeling I had when I had first laid eyes on this world whose story has got to be told.

One of the things that you should know about my characters in this working series is that they are middle schoolers living this fancy perfect life. They are given these heavy adult responsibilities that they really aren't prepared to take on, and the actions cause these negative consequences which does end up leaving them scarred. Take it as a "broken fairy tale", where there isn't a happily ever after. All of the violence in the poem is metaphorically stated; I do not mean the literal thing.  


Once a protagonist.
A fire.
Naïve, brave, fresh, and bright. Hope anew.
Setting off on the unknown journey where adventures unfold.

Stab, stab!
The sword slices, the deep cuts of blood
red and full.
Wounds may heal, but oh!
Where has the protagonist gone?

Crying, screaming, kicking, awaking, haunted,
as friends cling on desperately,
trying to stop the hero from

Lives failed to save,
The cunning words of an enemy
twiddling the craft of its needlework beneath the surface,
memories that are nightmares.
All of these stoned into the afflicted soul.

Ashes, ashes, ashes, ashes,
for what is there left to remain?
The great crumbled by vile-hearted savages
who take on a life when fed.
And this is all that is left
of a hero young and naïve,


Watch out for March! My muse has been on fire lately, whoop! I may not be able to post a lot due to my schedule, but I am, however, writing a mini story which I am excited to share with you all! It was a painful piece to write because the character is really heavy in terms of persona and I could really sympathize with the character. Please leave some feedback on the poem! I'd love to hear it. xx


tran•quil•i•ty (traNGˈkwilədē/)
noun: the quality or state of being tranquil; calm.

January and February are always the months where I feel at peace. During this time I feel as if I am swaddled in a blanket that is fresh out of the dryer. The days are fast and happy but every minute seems to be stretched out for the long run; it often reminds me of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Lately, my life doesn’t feel like it has been going much anywhere. The days are mundane and have the same schedule as follows: wake up, school, study and finish homework, blog, read, sleep, repeat. 

The only things I do in my spare time are read, watch movies, and bake. There were many opportunities that were available to me over the course of two months, but because of some mishaps I sit at home, lying in bed, and feeling like an absolute dummy.

I think it may be because I often so used to doing something rather than sitting at home. I am much happier doing something productive outside of my house than playing Pottermore on my laptop. I want to get up and see the world. I want to break this bleakness from my life, which is the reason why, despite my shortness and all, I have signed myself up for track and field. 

I know that I am probably going to come home with an hour’s work of Biology coloring homework and my legs shot of soreness after I come home from practice, but it will be a good change.

But for now, let me go and spend much of my time reading. Let me go and spend the rareity of my time take photos of the melting snow. Let me go out and hum songs from Broadway musicals while I rewrite notes. Let me enjoy the last several days of tranquility.

(P.S. Also, I'm freaking out. Read this to find out why.)


“Charlotte, come on! You have to come try this with us.”

I shake my head hesitantly in response to the beckoning of my friends. The sun light’s rays waltz as it swoons to the lullaby that Mother Earth—sweet Mother Earth—sings to her children every night. The sky was beautiful, the weekend beckons, and the wild adventurous spirits of my friends come to life. I can see that spark of teenage rebellion and recklessness in their eyes. This is the thing that my parents tell me to stay away from, but yet intrigues me at the same time.

“She doesn’t have to try riding in the back of the truck with us. I know this is an open high way and no one ever drives through here, but still. We’re not pressuring you, Char. It’s okay. You can sit inside.” My friend Maye sends me a smile, but her eyes avert contact with mine. I can sense what is going through her head—there goes quiet Charlotte. Charlotte, with her brown hair and hazel eyes, chained to her plainness and never daring to take a risk in her life.

I need to prove them wrong. No, I have to prove them wrong. 

It’s true what they say. I am terrified of life. I’m sixteen, and I need to grow out of this clustered shell that has protected me from the rest of the world. I need to branch out and experience life. I swaddle my shoulders with my oversized wool sweater as everyone packs up the rest of the campsite. 
“Well, are you coming, or what?”

This time, it is my friend, Chase, who calls out to me. “Um… um, yes I am coming.” Then, before I can stop the words from coming out of my mouth, I say, “I want to ride in the back.”

“Are you sure about that, Brownie-hair?” I laugh at that nickname and stick my tongue out, but Chase’s facial expression, a serious façade, does not change. I thank the stars that the night sky was almost dark; I can feel my cheeks heat up lightly. “Look, I don’t want to pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do.”

“I really want to ride in the back of the truck.”

“But Charlotte, are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” My eyes meet his dark brown, and without another word, he extends a hand to lift me up to the back of the van. I am greeted by four pairs of staring eyes, and a cry of light squeals, coming gently out of Maye. Maye pats down a seat that is located toward the interior of the back and I wiggle my way to get comfortable.

Chase knocks to the driver of the car. “Go slow,” he mouths.

“Okay, will do,” the driver agrees. Chase jumps onto the cargo area. 

“Hold on tight! Just say when it gets too fast and I’ll yell at Mark to slow down.”

The driver rumbles the truck to life and we begin to move. I close my eyes, willing myself to not go carsick and puke, or make myself look like a fool in all of the possible ways I could in the back of the truck. The car’s pace quickens. I anchor my hands to the bottom of the platform I sit on. I am still terrified. 

But then I slowly open my eyes.

I look up to see the sky once again. The world dances in a circle, the stars prance, but oh, the sky and the children of the earth, and they dance in a wave, the crops waving to and fro to reach their tops to the sky! Mother Earth and Father Sky are smiling and celebrating in a wild fashion, to the rustle of the fields, to the chugging of the engine, to the laughter that wells out of me. 

I raise my hands and let my palms feel the cool air rush between the spaces of my fingertips. I have taken a chance. I am breathing, I am alive.

Most of all, I am f r e e.

Hi guys! This was something that came out in the spur of the moment; it's unedited, but I think I am going to rewrite this. Tell me what you think.

A Valentine's Day Playlist

Well, as you all know, Valentine's Day is tomorrow! I'm not a huge fan of the holiday, since it's been rather commercialized the past several years, but that's my personal opinion. I've ended up creating a playlist with some of my favorite songs about love-- whether it is yearning for love or getting over a breakup, I've placed it on this list. Most of these songs are clean. There is one in particular (I'm Yours, by Jason Mraz) that does have some mild swearing, so I do advise you to take caution of that.

I'm kind of sad to not be as active as I wish I could have over the week. Life has been coming and sweeping me up like a storm, demanding me to pay attention to more important needs other than blogging. I'm studying for school and editing several reviews I am trying to write several essays and reviews for various websites and magazines. What all of these essays are for I'm not allowed to say, "Don't count your chickens until they've hatched!"

What are some of your favorite songs on the list? Do you like Valentine's Day! Post below in the comments!

My Blog Is Turning 2!

Note: This is a GIF filled post.

“Today is my blog anniversary! Whoop-whoop!”

That’s how I have been imagining the way to celebrate my blog anniversary—but in reality, the day is just how I celebrate my birthdays. People greet me and I give a shrill thank you in return, but I try to keep my day as simple as possible, much to my parents’ distress. I prefer the day to be spent simply in small activity, like baking cookies, with the small company of friends. I even remember on my last birthday, I remember eating Lunchables at school.

I’m weird like that, to remember strange facts.

But hey, this may sound serious, but this is that one day per year I use GIFs in my post.

As of today, I have 24111 page views, 171 posts (171’s multiples are 1, 171, 57, 3, 19, and 9) and 145 followers! I sound like a nerd, but John Green says:

Yay! I want to mention everyone who has stayed by my side during this blogging journey and to all of the new friends I have made—gosh, it’s a crime for me to name everyone because you’ve all made an impact on my blog and I, and I have just got to say: 
From the bottom of my heart, thank you all for sticking up with me, through the crazy life journey and experiences that I experience. It means a lot that my blog has grown, and that all of you are supporting me. It’s helped me grow a lot in my confidence as a writer and as a person. You guys keep me going every day. ^.^ 
Here is a kiss, hug, banana, and fist bump from the minions and Baymax!

I'll be here chatting all day, so don't be afraid to chat in the comments and check back every once in awhile!


Several days ago, I found time out of my homework-filled schedule to go and take some snow pictures on the deck of my backyard. The day called for a rest after having a productive rehearsal in choir, singing Vuelie, from Frozen, and Safari, sang by the same choir, Cantus! For those of you have been reading my blog for about over a year, you may recognize my backyard as a backdrop basis for much of my earlier photography (and the place where I accidently locked myself out for half an hour before deciding to climb over the fence; the lesson: do not close the door to your backyard unless you have a phone with you or a key).

For readers who are not familiar with the setting, I will help you envision the scene. The way to my backyard. The way to my backyard is through a white painted window door located in my brother’s bedroom. To trek through, one would have to push aside the blinds and heat insulators. 

Do this, and the outdoors are revealed. A bundle of summer items that my family forgets—a pair of sandals, stacks of chairs, regular tires, a green wash cloth that hasn't been washed in months—all sit under a small roof, the protection of the raised area. These are items that my family and time had forgotten, but I used these to help produce some of the photos I've taken.

 This photo and the one above it were both taken on tires.

It’s strange that how time passes, certain thoughts you had about certain things change. One may think that it may just be the thoughts that changed all along, that its true color have finally been shown, but no. It is the way of how the person sees it—that is where the change occurs. For my first month of blogging, the backyard was simply the place where I took photos in, and the place where I sat at when I was younger. Starting last year, however, I have discovered an affinity and appreciation for all of the things I see—the beauty of nature and the junk of people, items and subjects that people would store and stare at or just ignore. I am one of those who oversees the good and the bad, the things that many wish to have or get rid of. I look at both sides and see with perspective, and I encourage you all to do the same.

Melting snow droplets on my jacket!

Also, if you want a blog design, click here for my form and here for my portfolio. My blog design may or may not slow down, depending on track and field.