Cynus

I run the concessions at the arena where I work, and I had a guy come up to me and ask me if we sold "Spits". He was asking for Sunflower Seeds, but I've never heard them called that before. Apparently it's a Canadian word for them, which I'll try to remember next time I write a Canadian character who likes sunflower seeds, but I wonder how many other words we take for granted just because we all speak English. Obviously this is hardly a new subject, but I found it incredibly fascinating when it occurred. What are some of your experiences with words from a different dialect of your same language?

“Elder Hadley, wait!” Luke called as he ran after Jason. He was still in nothing but his garment bottoms, but he didn’t care. They were still in the dorm and surrounded entirely by male missionaries. As far as he was concerned, he wasn’t breaking any rules yet, though that could change quickly if he was forced to follow Jason outside. “I don’t want to talk to you, Elder Phillips,” Jason yelled back as he stepped through the pair of double doors that led toward the stairwell. He turned around

I love the emotional control you had over this scene. I'm looking forward to seeing it continue in later chapters.

I appreciate the depth, Gary.

"There cannot be a God because if there were one, I could not believe that I was not He." ~Friedrich Nietzsche Using this quote as my basis, I determined that I must be the "God" that is referred to in the poll, and I would definitely use a Chinese sneak attack as my plan of action. Settling a few scores would likely be my primary goal of those listed, though I imagine I'd have other things in mind, like world domination. As for the religious nut, I figured he'd hide in some bunker while my Chinese forces moved in, and so will probably make plenty more predictions until we eventually found him and turned him into our court jester. As for what I'll be wearing. Probably a kimono. I realize it's hardly Chinese but they are insanely comfortable...

I am happy to know people who have seen and watched so many of these. It means I can learn what's good! I started Black Butler but then something distracted me from it, and I never got around to finishing it. Maybe I'll get back to it after Mushishi.

I shared this quote on the "Inspirational Quotes" forum a short while ago, and it was brought to my mind again in response to several of the comments on my last blog posting: "If you one day make it back to the West, what will you tell men of this strange word, 'kung fu'? Will you tell them that it means to fight? Or will you say like a monk from Shaolin to summon the spirit of the crane and the tiger? Kung Fu. It means, 'supreme skill from hard work.' A great poet has reached kung fu. The painter, the calligrapher they can be said to have kung fu. Even the cook, the one who sweeps steps or a masterful servant can have kung fu. Practice. Preparation. Endless repetition. Until your mind is weary, and your bones ache. Until you're too tired to sweat, too wasted to breathe. That is the way, the only way one acquires kung fu." -Hundred Eyes, "Marco Polo" I want to expand on my view of what "Life is meant to be art, and most treat it as work" means to me. There are many necessary things in life, that are unpleasant, uncomfortable, and are, quite simply, mundane. We still have to do the laundry. We still have to wash dishes, or do paperwork. How do we make these things into an art rather than work? I believe that's where the philosophy of Kung Fu comes into play. My first job, which I acquired several weeks after my sixteenth birthday, was in a restaurant washing dishes. Our restaurant, although it served a full menu of food, was specialized in ice cream, which we served in all manner of glass dishes. Our job as the dishwashers, was to clean these glass dishes that were covered in gooey melted ice cream. It was a messy job, it was a wet job, and it was fast-paced. If you didn't move quickly then the piles of dirty dishes would back up and before you knew it you'd be overwhelmed. At first, I hated this job. I couldn't stand going home soaking wet and smelling like rancid ice cream. I hated having my bosses riding my back and telling me that we needed more clean of some dish that was buried beneath mountains of other dirty dishes. I would have never expected that I'd come to enjoy it. But I did. The job transformed gradually. As I continued to work, I became more practiced at methods which helped us get the job done more quickly. I learned how to set myself up for success rather than failure through careful preparation, as instead of washing one dish at a time I learned how to line them up in such a way that I could wash many of them all at once. These and other skills I acquired helped me grow as a dishwasher, and eventually I became one of the best that we had. Through constant exposure to the task, countless repetitions of the movements required, I could do these things as if they were a second nature to me. At the beginning of my six months in that dish room, I was a teenager with no respect for anything. At the end of it, even when I'd go home tired, weary, wet, and smelling like spoiled milk, I felt like I was accomplishing something, because I had been able to turn my work into an art. Practice. Preparation. Endless Repetition. Until your mind is weary, and your bones ache. Until you're too tired to sweat, too wasted to breathe. That is the way that we make the mundane into something extraordinary. It doesn't matter if you're a writer, lawyer, painter, executive, or the cashier at McDonald's. All work can become art, for all work can grant you "supreme skill from hard work". Every mundane task can become an art form. Sometimes, when I'm washing dishes, I remember those nights in the dish room, and I can't help but smile. Not much is better than fond memories made from simple pleasures of a job well done.

Seems to fit everything above, which is what I used as the basis for what I've been working on(albeit slowly). I'm only slightly concerned about Mary and Tina, specifically the part about one being Zach's mom. I'll explain that via PM to you, Drew, and to Valkyrie as well, just so that we keep it with everyone who is intending to work on the project but not give spoilers to anyone else who may be reading.

The plates, according to the official story, still existed, but the method of translation is what has been altered in the official story. Here's an article about the stone. The church recently released a series of photographs of the stone, and the picture in the article is one of those official pictures. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seer_stone_(Latter_Day_Saints)

I've never thought of it that way, but I wouldn't be surprised if you're dead on. It's not like they officially say that they do it for that reason, but that is certainly what happens. You start to lose who you were before you became and Elder, and the position you have in the church is one that is all-consuming and takes over your life completely. I felt like I lost a great deal of my individuality on my mission, and it's probably what led to my nervous breakdown a year later. You've given me much to think about.

Sorry it took so long to get back to you on this, Tomas. The story after Smith finished his translation is that the the angel Moroni took the plates up to Heaven with him. A convenient way to get them off the planet in case anyone wants evidence, I guess. Everything else you said about the story was spot on for what I was taught as a child, though they've recently altered the official story. (They're claiming it was always this way, and that the way we were taught as a children was just folklore) Now, instead of Joseph Smith having translated the plates directly through the power of God, he supposedly peered through a hat at a special seer stone in order to translate everything...

Jason is an asshole, but there are changes in store for him as much as everyone else in this story. Chris is the eldest, which has a lot to do with his confidence on top of his voluntary joining of the church. He also has a dad who has never stood in the way of his personal choice, which has affected things as well. Gary and Luke? Well, I'll leave off talking about them for now. They are the true stars of this story, and so to say much about either would potentially give too much away.

Hopefully you'll enjoy it through to the end. I have to admit that my missionary experience affects a lot of what I write, so it was about time that I wrote a story focusing on the missionary life itself.

My first class in the MTC was a similar experience. I'm 90% certain that all of us were either bluffing about why we were serving or were as dogmatically devoted as Jason. It was a very sad reality. I enjoyed engaging with people on my mission who wanted to challenge my church's beliefs, likely because I wasn't really buying into it much myself, and I was able to gain new insight from them. The one who finally convinced me to leave the church was one of these people, and I'm going to write that chapter in my autobiographical piece, "At the End of the Day", pretty soon. Can I just say that "It only takes one ass to blow it up" definitely sounds like a double entendre?

I think there will still be a few surprises in store for everyone. If I wrote them how I intended, then each of the four will show their strengths, and will also show their fatal flaw soon enough. Jason is, unfortunately, like many of those who grew up with a belief set being forced upon them. They haven't taken the time to study life critically to determine truth from their own perspective, rather than relying upon the words of others. He's trapped in dogma. *sigh*

That was very informative. Thank you.

Believe it or not, knowing that it's subjective is a perfect enough answer. Thank you everyone for your responses. I definitely overuse the word, but now I have a bit more confidence to keep it in when it feels weird to me.

Okay, so one of my editor's gets rid of almost every instance of the word "that". Most of the time I agree with him, because the sentence works fine without the word and it's only purpose is filler, but there are a few instances where the sentence sounds weird to me without it. Here are a few examples of the times where he deletes it, but I feel weird about it. He knew that there was money in his account. He had checked his account only an hour ago. (I thing I can see it on this one, which is why I'm questioning my own sanity) This was the first time he had had an opportunity to interact with anyone else in their dormitory, and he noticed that those who were still wearing nametags all had ones written in Korean. Is this a factor of my bad habit of using "that" in my speech, and it really doesn't belong in that second sentence? Or is that a proper usage? I only want to ensure I'm writing properly in the future, and that it's a habit I need to change.

The smallest one was the worst. Somehow, he had become the leader of the gang of miscreants, and they all answered to him. He wasn’t just small, he was scrawny, but he had a tough streak like no one I had ever seen, and he could out cuss anyone who had ever crossed my path before. Maybe it was that brutal mouth of his which gave him the loyalty of the three thugs who followed him around, but I thought it was something more. The boy had brains; he was smart and sly, and I was sure the others foll

Every Halloween, Jack works at the "Haunted Corn Maze". Some years are more eventful than others, for sometimes the spirits of the harvest are called upon to protect those who who live within the boundaries of the corn field.

I am also fluent in sarcasm. New Question: What is your totem animal? (The one you're most like, not necessarily your favorite)

I reheated grilled food. Does that count? The person below me loves winter sports.

I think I have an idea. Will address below Drew's post. I think I have an idea on how to start a prologue for this story, keeping with the theme of running each line (Though we've been starting to do paragraphs, and I'm cool with that too) in alphabetical order. If I remember correctly, there's a way to add authors to a story on story submission, right? So anyone who wants to join me in the actual writing of this story, I am definitely game to work with. Drew, Valkyrie, Reader1810, Greg_A, and anyone else who worked on these scenes. (Clochette too, right? And Renee?) Anyone who wants join in on the writing, I'd love to pull together for the project. I'm going to write the few paragraphs I have thought out and send it to anyone who is interested. Peace.

Copy and paste the scene and first letter at the end of every post. That's my suggestion of keeping everyone knowing when the scene should end. Alternatively, we could just end the scene when it feels natural to end the scene, but then we have to rely upon someone making that call, and not everyone will necessarily agree. Thoughts? Scene: Charlie and her father return to their home. The Father, Harry, calls for a family meeting to ask about last night. Letter: "F" "First of all, Charlotte, we need to discuss some rules." Harry scanned the room, meeting each family member in turn. His eyes settled on Sean, his eldest son, though he was the second-oldest child. Charlotte was the eldest at eighteen, and Sean had only recently turned sixteen. "We want to make sure this pattern of behavior doesn't continue."

I will do what I can to bring honor to you all. *bows head solemnly* Absolutely! Should we leave it up to chance, and once we start the scene we can determine whose sister she is?