Chasing Daisies: my life

Showing posts with label my life. Show all posts

Sometimes I just feel like I need permission. And more than just permission-- more like a top level security clearance or a badge I can flash at people to assert the fact that, yes, I do actually know what I'm talking about and y'all better listen up.

Basically, a psychic paper might be nice.

I won't really be an extrovert until everyone recognizes me as one. I won't really be a writer until I have a published novel to point people to. I won't really count as mentally ill until I have a diagnosis from a doctor to tell me so.

I told y'all I was going to start talking about mental illness, didn't I?

Well, to be entirely honest, I've been rethinking that decision lately. After all, what do I really know about depression or anxiety or any of that stuff? Sure, I've been through some tough times, but to call it anything more than that is just being overly dramatic. Nobody else seems to notice anything wrong with me. So what can I have to say to or about those who struggle with the real thing? I shouldn't even be trying.

Actually, I don't even want to talk about this stuff. I'd rather keep being the bubbly, happy-go-lucky Gem everyone knows and hopefully loves. I want to keep my eyes closed and my mind numb and somehow forget the suffering going on all around me. But in the back of my mind, in the depths of my heart, there's a voice that whispers and echoes and gradually grows louder and louder until I can't tune it out any longer. And he says, "As the Father has sent me, even so am I sending you. Go therefore and make disciples."

I try to argue. "You've got the wrong girl. I'll only mess it up for you. No one authorised me to do this stuff. No one prepared me to help people this way. I don't have anything useful to say." But I've got it wrong. I have been authorised. Jesus has called me to labour for his kingdom, and that's all the authorisation I'll ever require.

It's everywhere. I can't get away from it. It's in between the lines in pop culture. It's in the stray hints and vague mentions all over the internet. It's in the voices of those I love, and it's in my own heart. There's just so much pain it's overwhelming.

But there's just so much hope it's unbelievable.

Recently, several young ladies stepped out in faith and started a blog dedicated to encouraging Christians struggling with mental illness. On the way to church this Sunday, the Christian radio station was discussing the attitude the church at large has towards mental illness and the love Jesus has for those who struggle. Over the past few months, God has showed up again and again in my own struggle with depression and anxiety in ways that are nothing short of miraculous. I can see God moving. I know he is doing something spectacular.

And I believe he wants to use me.

The other day I was talking to a very close friend whom I've known for awhile, and, for the first time, she told me about her brother's ongoing battle with depression and anxiety. As she briefly described his condition and everything she is feeling as she watches him go through this, it hit me all over again. Just how many people feel what I feel. Just how many people need help like I need help. And I found the tears welling up as the voice echoed once again, "Go therefore and make disciples."

I've been fighting and fighting. I've been too scared to go. I've kept my mouth shut because I'm terrified if I open it I'll only say the wrong thing. I've been paralysed by the fear that I don't count. That I'm not authorised to do this.

But I hear a whisper I can't ignore. A command that demands just one reply:

"Here I am! Send me."

What is something God has called you to do at some point?

That's right. Chasing Daisies has been up and running for exactly one year. Which is incredibly exciting, obviously.

I'd normally be the type of person to go gushing on and on about how thankful I am for all you lovely readers and how this blog couldn't possibly exist without you and how you are undoubtedly the most awesome peeps in the universe, but not today. (Though that's all completely true and I love y'all.)

I'd normally be the type of person to reminisce over all the good times and the bad times that I've come through with this blog during the past year, rehashing old themes and struggles and triumphs, tenderly remembering the topics I've discussed, the mistakes I've made, and the friends I've met, but not today. (Though it has been ridiculously amazing.)

I'd normally be the type to scream about how exciting this is and make corny jokes and ramble on and on about how much I love birthdays and shove cake and ice cream in your faces, but-- not today. (Though y'all should totally use this as an excuse for ice cream. You should use everything as an excuse for ice cream.)

Which is honestly what this post comes down to-- I've been changing a lot lately. It's probably not permanent, but there it is. And it's kind of inevitable that the blog is going to change, too. So what's this next year going to be looking like at Chasing Daisies?

I'm not totally sure I have the answer to that question, and I'm interested to hear your opinion before I state mine. So I've put together a quick survey, and I would really appreciate it if you'd take a few minutes to fill it out. Consider it a birthday present to Chasing Daisies, if you like.

(Here's a link, if for any reason it's not working.)

Thank you so much for being the awesome people you are. I'm looking forward to seeing what this year brings, and I hope you are too!!

Gabrielle, of Write for the King, has nominated me for the Sunshine Blogger Award! Thank you, Gabrielle-- this looks like exactly my sort of thing!

LOOK!!! It has a daisy on it!!!!

There are rules...

Thank the blogger who nominated you.
Display the logo thingy on your blog.
Share 7 facts or things about yourself.
Nominate 5 bloggers that you admire and notify nominees by commenting on their blogs.

...But I'm really bad at following rules, so I won't make any promises.

Stuff About Me You Might Not Know

1. I am not British. (You probably already knew this, but...) I do, however, use mostly British spellings of words like "colour" and "centre" and "recognise". This is a) because I can rarely remember which is the British spelling and which is the American anyway, b) because I think they look better for some reason, and c) because someone at some point set my Chromebook and iPod to English UK, and I can't figure out how to switch them back. (This gets annoying when I try to write distinctly American stories.)

2. Don't let my pink, fuzzy persona fool you. I like villains and depressing books/movies and the colour black and creepy psychological thrillers and morbid poetry. I also like pink stuff and flowers and fashion and decorating and tea parties and fluffy anything. (But you already knew that.) Are these things contradictions? No. One can be cute and dark at the same time, and I like to think I pull it off pretty well. *is not vain at all*

3. Daisies actually aren't my favourite flowers. *cue gasps* My favourite flower is actually goldenrod-- a simple weed that grows in my backyard in September and October. But "Chasing Goldenrod" sounds weird and doesn't really have the same meaning behind it. So-- yeah, anyway. I do really love daisies, but they're not my favourite ever.

4. I began writing books before I could spell. And I don't mean before I could spell words like "baccalaureate" (never mind, I still can't spell that word). I mean before I found out that "of" is not spelled "uv" and that it's "girl", not "gurl". I still have my first book (it was a very short and badly illustrated graphic novel) kicking around somewhere, and I can read exactly 0.001% of it.

5. I hand out free advice, very freely. (And on practically any topic.) Some people have told me that my advice is really good, which is surprising, since I totally make it all up off the top of my head. If I ever give you advice (for instance, writing advice on this blog) and you actually follow it, let me know how it works out, because basically nothing I say has ever been tested and I actually have no idea whether it works or not.

6. I have some very diverse interests. Now that I'm sixteen, people are constantly asking me what I want to study in college. I usually answer, "Either cosmetology, office administration, or some kind of computer programming." They always reply, "Wow-- uh-- those are three very different fields--"

7. My spirit animals are Unikitty, Kylo Ren, and the twelfth Doctor. (But, just for the record, this does not translate to me particularly liking Unikitty or admiring Kylo Ren.) Do not ask me how I relate to three such totally different people as much as I do, all at the same time. Let's just say, I do. A lot. Somehow.

And I'm just going to leave this one up for grabs. You like sunshine? Go spread some around! You don't like sunshine? Fine-- crawl back to your Gollum cave and eat raw fish. Whatever you do, have a great day!

So, I'm curious-- what or who is your spirit animal? Favourite flower? Potential (or official) major?

I had this month all planned out.

I was going to pull Splitting Atoms out of its dusty hiding place, go on a rewriting blitz, and have this new edition at least halfway done by the 31st. And yet, here it is the 22nd (as I write this), and I've got 1.5 pages of complete and utter trash which haven't been modified in weeks.

Go me.

But, honestly, I'm not bothered. I'm not beating myself up about it. (or at least I'm trying not to) I'm not even sorry.

I hear a lot about "writing everyday", "not waiting for inspiration to write", and "write even when you don't want to". And, in general, I agree. Normally, I believe in forcing myself to write-- because if I didn't, I'd never get anything done.

But this month, every time I opened the document and looked at that blank space on the screen, perfectly complimented by the blank space in my mind, I didn't feel just indisposed-- I felt paralysed. Completely overwhelmed and stressed out and incapable of making my brain create words and transfer them to the keyboard.

Life has been hitting harder that usual, I guess. I feel like I've been drowning in school, and my Mom just keeps putting more pressure on me, academically. Which is a good thing, but it's stressful. Church and youth group have been intense lately, which is a good thing, but it's stressful. We're renovating our basement, which means strangers coming and going constantly and lots of loud noises coming from beneath my feet-- it's a good thing, but it's stressful.

And, outside of a couple minutes to talk to my friends at church every Sunday, my social life has been practically non-existent, which means my extrovert soul has been running on empty, which makes functioning in general just. hard.

With everything that's been going on, I don't really feel like forcing myself to work on an already complicated and stressful WIP. And honestly-- right now, writing isn't my first priority. I'm just a kid in high school, and if I don't write for a week or two, it's not going to kill the rest of my writing life. (probably)

So I've taken an unofficial break from writing. And I think that's okay. I don't think we need to beat ourselves up when we don't write regularly or when we don't accomplish our goals. Sometimes we need to step back and reassess what's really important.

Writing, or a much needed seven hours of sleep? A good night's sleep.

Writing, or a long overdue time to read God's word? The Bible.

Writing, or the loads of school work sitting on your desk? School.

Writing, or six hours binge watching Netflix? Uh-- probably writing. But not necessarily.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, don't stress it. There are things that are more important than writing-- like your physical/mental/emotional/spiritual health-- and if writing is getting in the way of one of those things, it is entirely justified to take a break.

Do you think it's ever okay to take a break from writing? Or do we need to write everyday? Are there any things in your life you've prioritized over writing?

Happy New Year, everyone! December is over, and you all know what that means-- that's right, time for the obligatory end of the year post in which I get weepy and philosophical and talk about how much I love my life and my blog and all you dear, dear readers. (Which I do. Just so you know.)

So let's talk about 2015.

the year I started Chasing Daisies

Biggest one, obviously. That's right, this little mess here has been alive and kicking for nine months, now. Back when I started this thing, I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. I'm not going to lie, I still don't. But that's okay, because it's been fun, and while it still is a horrendous mess, it's totally worth it.

Other Blogging Highlights:

I published 48 blog posts and wrote (or started writing) 79.
I followed way more blogs than I'm ever going to try to count.

I joined Twitter and Pinterest. (We'll just pretend this is related to blogging.)

And just as a matter of interest, Your Favourite Posts: (apparently)

Is Your Story Worth It?

7 Reasons You Should Be Writing Right Now (in gifs)

Defining Strong: Why the "Strong Female Character" Trend is Actually Anti-Feminist

Beautiful Books 1: Introducing Shadowwhisper

In Which I Compare Characters to Screaming Children

Snazzy Snippets #2 (In Which I Shove My NaNo Down Your Throats)

-- I just realized I seem to have a thing for long titles. This could be a problem.

Also, no, you're not hallucinating, THE BLOG JUST GOT A MAKEOVER.

the year I turned sixteen

I never bought into the whole "sweet sixteen" thing. For one thing, my golden birthday was when I was fifteen and I made big deal out of it, and that kind of underscored the excitement of sixteen. For another thing, I really dislike the number sixteen for some reason (I have no idea why). I still don't see anything particularly great about turning sixteen-- so far, it's mostly meant stress.

"Do you have your driver's license yet?" "When are you going to get a job?" "You need to start researching colleges." Apparently I'm supposed to start adulting. Which I'm not happy about, but it's probably good for me.

the year I didn't give up on my novel

I've been rewriting and revising and editing "Splitting Atoms" all year, and by this point, I kinda hate it. I kinda hate it a lot. It's been hard and painful and that editing thing had me crying more than once, but I didn't give up. I've pushed through it (for the most part) and right about now I'm diving into yet another rewrite. Yeah, I don't have any of this figured out and I'm pretty sure I did it horribly wrong, but at least I did it.

Other Writing Highlights

I won NaNo and wrote a painful, scary, creepy story about two-dimensional monsters which pose as shadows. (But shhhh-- spoilers.)

Speaking of that novel, I invented my favourite protagonist I have ever written, and that's kind of a big deal. (Also, my antagonist is pretty cool, too.)

And I actually worked up the courage to share snippets and pictures and generally tell people about my writing, which I was never able to do before.

the year I learned to surrender

Hey, so here's the thing. There's a God who created the entire universe, a God who created me, and quite some time ago I asked this God into my heart and told him that he was my God.

And for years, I've been holding out on him. For years, I've been telling the God who made the planets and keeps Earth from burning up, the God who controls the tides and the seasons, the rain and the pressure of the atmosphere, that he can't control me. I've been acting like I'm the one in charge of my life. I've been fighting him every step of the way and screaming at him when things don't go my way.

I'm still not perfect-- nowhere close-- I'll probably have to learn this same lesson over and over again in the years to come--

But this year I learned that God is doing a better job at running my life than I ever would.

This year I learned that there's no point to being independent if you're miserable in the meantime.

This year I learned that true joy is only found when I obey God and live in accordance with his will, not mine.

This year I learned that God's grace is sufficient to get me through the things I think I can't do, if I just trust and obey him.

This year, especially, I learned that obeying God doesn't make me miss out on the fun I think I'd have otherwise, it's just a different (better) kind of fun.

And 2015 was

the year I had fun

I loved this year. I loved blogging. I loved being fifteen, for as long as it lasted. I loved writing, even when it was hard. I loved growing deeper in my relationship with God.

I made lots of great friends and grew a lot closer to the ones I already had. I partied hard, if infrequently. I started to come out of my shell and get the better of this whole social anxiety thing. I went to camp. I worked a summer job. I kept doing the school thing. I got my learner's permit. I spent a lot of time with my nephews and nieces and other family members.

I had fun. Sure, I didn't love all of it, but I firmly believe it was all worth the bits I did love.

2015 was a great year for me, and I'm so thankful for every minute of it.

What was your greatest accomplishment/event/lesson of 2015? Did you keep any of your New Year's Resolutions? What are you looking forward to in 2016?

It's here. The presents are stacked high around our (puny) tree, Christmas music is blaring in my ears, and I'm sitting in the living room surrounded by my siblings and cousins who've come home to celebrate with us. We've been to Christmas recitals and concerts, Christmas services at our church, Christmas parties and open houses. And amidst the hustle and bustle I keep hearing the same thing I hear every year-- "Are we missing it? Are we missing what Christmas is really about?"

And sitting here, listening to Celtic Women and the laughter and chatter of my family-- I don't think I have. I don't think I'm missing it.

It's been a bit over two thousand years, now, since Mary and Joseph arrived in Bethlehem and the greatest gift of all time was given to the world. Two thousand years since the angels appeared to the shepherds-- the poor, ordinary, nothing-special-at-all shepherds-- and sang praises to God.

"Behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people."

Two thousand years later, I'm still feeling the joy-- the result of Christ's birth. Two thousand years wasn't enough to kill the joy or change the meaning of that gift.

Before Christ's coming, the only hope for salvation was following the strict Jewish law and offering frequent sacrifices at the temple. Before Christ's coming, a personal, close relationship with the Lord was only for the few, the favoured-- people like Enoch and Elijah. Before Christ's coming, it was ridiculously hard for a Gentile, like me, to find favour with God.

But that all changed when Jesus was born.

"For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, who is Christ the Lord."

Jesus was born to rescue mankind from their sin and suffering. Jesus was born to fulfil the law and the prophets as the one true Messiah. Jesus was born to save us. No wonder the message the angels brought was of joy and peace and good will!

Christmas is a celebration of that joy. At Christmas we remember how Jesus was born, and how Jesus died, and how Jesus rose again from the dead, breaking the chains of sin and death that held us in slavery before. At Christmas we celebrate the story that never loses its power, even after two thousand years.

At Christmas we should join the angels in singing, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth, peace, good will to men!"

I don't think I'm missing it right now. Right now, I'm feeling that joy.

Are you?

Have a great Christmas, everybody!

November was one crazy, crazy month. And none of the stuff I normally do got done, so I won't be wrapping up like I normally wrap up. Instead, let me tell you about my NaNoWriMo.

A NaNoWriMo Recap

You can click here to see my NaNo profile.

Week 1

Writing went down well, at first. I was hoping to get well ahead at the very beginning of the month-- in fact, I was trying for an average of 2000 words a day and finish with 60k. None of these things happened.

However, I did stay on top of my word count and didn't fall behind a single day the first week. Which I wasn't exactly expecting and felt pretty good about.

The words came pretty easily, too, which was nice, and I totally fell in love with my main character which was another unexpected, but not unwelcome, development. I usually have trouble with my protagonists being too boring or annoying, but I feel like I really got a good grasp of Rae's personality and I love it. I love her. I'll miss her a lot when I finish this thing.

I started Week 1 with 0 words and finished with 12,324. There were dysfunctional relationships, bad puns, really bad similes, and lots and lots of sarcasm.

I shared some snazzy snippets on the blog. Also:

Christy @ The Writing Bandit basically summed up my thought processes during NaNo.
Ava @ Writability asserted that writing is never a waste.

Overall, it was a pretty good week-- I even found some extra time and managed to read A Hero's Guide to Saving Your Kingdom. (And it got a solid four stars. Yay!)

Yet all good things come with a price, and I had no social life (or any life outside of writing) this week. Eh, well-- it was worth it.

Week 2

After my great first week, I knew writer's block was doomed to hit soon. But I had no idea it would hit as soon as it did-- or as punctually. Sunday-- the official start of week two for me-- hit, and-- where even was my plot? My motivation? My adoration for my characters and my story?

At the same time, I became vaguely aware that my novel wasn't going in anywhere near the same direction I was planning for it to, and that I needed to make some adjustments that I honestly wasn't sure how to make. Thankfully, my sister came to my rescue with tips on how to make my it scarier and more horror-esque. It's still not the creepy, dark, scary animal I originally envisioned it as being, but I think I'm okay with that.

I pretty much barely scraped my way through the entire week-- until Saturday. It was one of those really weird Saturdays-- for me-- when my parents didn't actually have loads of chores they wanted me to do, and so I was left with a ton of free time. And several writer peeps I follow on Twitter were shooting for 10k in one day and ~~I'm super competitive and can't resist a challenge~~ it looked fun, so I was like, "Hey, I wonder if I can do that?"

And I did. Somehow. By the end of it I was exhausted and super pumped up simultaneously and it was just a really awesome experience. Which I will probably never repeat.

I started Week 2 with 12,324 words, and finished with 31,954. There was more sarcasm, threats, races and motorcycle parades, and some very, very awkwardly written romance.

I also wrote an essay on Superhuman Registration acts that was probably a couple thousand words long, but unfortunately didn't count towards NaNo.

I talked about my writing process on the blog. And:

Imogen @ Gossiping with Dragons discussed comparing yourself with other writers.
Aimee @ To the Barricade! got real about NaNoWriMo.
Braden @ The Storymonger explained why he doesn't write happy endings.

Other than writing, I watched lots of Supernatural fan videos and called it "research", since my story is paranormal. (Since I don't have access to Supernatural, itself, and I'm not sure I'd enjoy it anyway, fan videos are the next best thing, right?) I also ate a lot of pie and tried not to be bored when all my friends talked about Football.

Week 3

So, having written 10K words on Saturday, I proceeded to get stuck again. Several days I didn't end up writing anything at all, and by the end of the week, I was only about a thousand words ahead of my goal.

I've always wanted to try writing at a coffee shop, because it seemed like a really professional, writerly, possibly poetic thing to do. The main problems have always been that I hate coffee and that the closest coffee shop is like 30 minutes away and no one would take me. However, my sister works part time at a bakery right in town, and on Monday my mom wanted me out of the house for various reasons, so I went to work with my sis. The bakery had free wi-fi and really good tea and croissants and really bad music, so it was quite interesting and I had a lot of fun.

The lighting was really bad and my iPod camera is terrible at the best of times, but whatever.

I was there for four hours and only got 2,000 words, but, hey. It was still fun.

I started Week 3 with 31,954 words and finished with 37,732. There was shipping and crying and laughing and best friends and sickness and home made flame throwers.

I gave a pep talk that was as much for myself as anyone else, and as I write this it has a 100 views, which is the most views I've ever had on a post and I'm insanely happy and y'all are the best.

Cap @ YAvengers talked about bad fashion sense and NaNoWriMo.
Emily @ This Incandescent Life says we need to stop skipping November.

I went to the mall on Sunday with my sisters, wrote at the bakery on Monday, and had a couple girls from church come over to watch Big Hero 6 with me and my sisters on Saturday. So I had a pretty good dose of reality.

Week 4

Writing didn't get any easier this week. Writer's block was not as big of a problem as procrastination. There was a character who needed to die, and I didn't want to kill him/her, so of course the solution was to put it off for as long as possible. Eventually I squared my shoulders and soldiered through, but it would be lying to say that tears and chocolate weren't heavily involved.

My mom was adamant that there would be no NaNo-ing on Thanksgiving, and though I really do love writing, Thanksgiving is about God and family and food and those things take precedence over my novel, so I didn't complain (much) and skipped Thursday. And I had a great Thanksgiving. I made pecan pie and my Grandma came over and we ate turkey and all that jazz and then sat around talking for hours.

Behold the beauty that is my pie. The crust was too thick but shhh. Don't tell anyone.

Thankfully, I didn't have too much trouble churning out the 3000 and some words on Friday for some reason, (in spite of the fact that I went shopping!) and quickly caught up. Basically the whole week was spent barely making my counts-- but at least making them!

I went into Week 4 with 37,732 words and I came out with 46,691. There was fire and character deaths and crying and hugging and sisters and more awkward romance and scary threats.

I did not blog. I was busy and exhausted and it kinda fell by the wayside.

Gabrielle @ Write for the King shared some tips on how to dredge up inspiration.
Sarah @ The Power started an I am Second group and God is doing something really special.

I did find time to watch half of Lawrence of Arabia and a couple episodes of Doctor Who?, which was fun and relaxing. (Nothing like two hours of camels and sand and very little else to help you de-stress from a long writing session.)

Sunday and Monday

Sunday came round, and not only was there church in the morning, but that evening my brother and his family came over and we celebrated advent and had a tree decorating party, so I only really had the afternoon to write. Somehow I made my count, but no more.

Monday (today, actually, as I write this) I was stuck. Majorly, majorly stuck. And school was tougher than usual today, as well. I basically survived by sitting in one place all afternoon and evening, hardly ever even standing up once, typing like crazy and deleting most of it because I kept writing myself into walls. (Yeah, yeah, look at me. The person who says you should never edit during your first draft.)

I eventually hit 50,051 at around 6:30 pm, Monday, the 30th. I wrote a story about true friendship and what that looks like, letting go of prejudice and first impressions, and being brave enough to make a decision, even when you're not sure it's the right one.

Overall, my month was awesome. Sure it was tiring. Sure it was stressful. But ultimately, it was fullfilling and productive, and I feel like I came out with a pretty solid story.

And this coming month...

While I hit the 50k mark, I haven't actually finished my story. I'm guessing I've got around 12.5k left to go. So my #1 goal for December is to write "The End" before Christmas. I'd actually like to get there by the end of this week, but I doubt that's going to happen.

After I finish my novel for good, I want to do some "research" on my chosen genre-- YA urban fantasy/paranormal. I haven't really read much in this genre and I'd like to get a better grasp of the established norms and conventions (so I can break them all *evil laugh*). In fact, if you know of any really great YA urban fantasy or even very mild horror novels, I'd definitely appreciate recs. :)

Also once I finish this WIP, I'll be returning to "Splitting Atoms" edits for a month or two before I come back and do a rewrite of Shadowwhisper.

Basically, I have my work cut out for me for a good long while. But that's okay! It'll be fun! (I hope...)

Did you do NaNo? (I feel like I ask that in every post...) How did it go? Americans, how was your Thanksgiving? Basically, how is life, because I've been detached from humanity all month?

No, this is not a "we need diverse characters" type of post. Maybe next time.

Recently, I was talking to a friend about racism, and he said something that really bothered me. He said that racism is not just discriminating against another nationality, but also "perpetuating (the idea of) race in any way...since it is dividing people by a standard God did not set" (my friend being a Christian).

In other words, there is only one race, the human race, and if you divide people by, or think of people in terms of, man's idea of "races", than you yourself are being racist.

And I disagree.

A lot of people don't realize this, but I'm a quarter Japanese. Yeah, yeah-- only a quarter, and I don't look it, I can't speak Japanese, I've never been to Japan, and I don't even like sashimi, but I'm still Japanese, and proud of it.

My diversity counts. A good part of everyday, when I was a child, was spent with my grandmother, who was fully Japanese and grew up in Japan, and I couldn't help but pick up some of the culture. My diversity is important to me. The Japanese traditions in my family, started from my grandmother, still affect my life, even now that she's passed away. My diversity is worth something. God made me this way for a reason. I'm proud to be different. I'm proud to have grown up in a family of mixed nationalities and cultures (not just Japanese, but there's quite a bit of Polish and Ukrainian in this girl as well). I am so grateful for the experiences I've had that I probably wouldn't have had if I wasn't racially diverse-- such as hosting a Japanese foreign exchange student the last four summers, making pierogi as a family with my (other, Ukrainian) grandmother, and eating maki and sukiyaki at New Year's and complaining when my brother put sashimi in.

I love being diverse. I love being Japanese. And I don't think there's anything racist about celebrating your diversity. I think it's okay to rejoice in the way God made you-- unique, fascinating, and beautiful.

But then there are those who aren't so diverse. There's the "white people", or, in other words, those that haven't had a foreign ancestor in the last few generations, or at least whose foreign ancestry doesn't affect their life much, today. And you know what? That's okay, too.

People seem to think of "white" Americans as a "majority". Like they're all the same, like they don't all have their own diversities, even racial diversities. Like every single one of them isn't unique and different and special.

I mean, I look white. Most people think I'm white. And I guess I kinda am. I'm just your normal USA citizen-- I've never even been out of the country. So I identify with the "white" demographic. But I can safely say there aren't that many other white Americans out there that have the same cultural influence in their lives that I've had. And I can also safely say that I haven't had anywhere near the same cultural influences in my life as you have had.

And I think that's beautiful. Even the most most common, stereotyped, or run-of-the-mill demographics in any different time or place are made up of unique and uncommon people.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, God did make those racial divisions. He might not have called it race-- it started out as languages, which formed cultures, which formed nationalities-- and he might not have made them wholly to divide us. I think he made them because variety is beautiful. I think God made races, at least partly, so we could look around at our fellow humans and say "Isn't God amazing to have done this?"

That's not racism. That's diversity. And it's a good thing.

So what's your opinion? Should we perpetuate the idea of race? Should we celebrate diversity? How are you unique?

What do you know? Ashley tagged me for a thing! And it's a super duper awesome thing, so I'm doing it.

Let's get started.

Write Fuel: What do you eat/drink while writing?

Anything and everything. Especially chocolate (including hot chocolate). A few other favourites are: ice cream, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (don't judge), cookies, and milk tea (since first being introduced to the concoction via this lovely tag). And now I'm hungry.

... Who am I kidding? I'm always hungry. I'm a dragon.

Write Sounds: What do you listen to while writing?

The rhythmic clicking of my keyboard, the far off lowing off cows, strains from the piano downstairs, and the distracting buzz of a trapped stinkbug.

That aside, I am a steadfast supporter of listening to music while I write. It might not work for everyone, but it sure works for me. And again, I pretty much listen to anything. I've got specialised playlists for both my major WIP and my upcoming NaNo novel, plus a collection of really gorgeous instrumentals when I really can't spare any extra braincells for lyrics (though singing usually helps me think better). And often enough I'll just turn my music on and let it play what it will.

If we're talking specifics, I adore instrumentalists like Audiomachine, Two Steps from Hell, and Martin Garrix.

Write Vices: What is your most debilitating distraction?

I won't deny it-- I am easily distracted.

The internet is my bane. I constantly get side tracked scrolling through Pinterest, reading all the blog posts, checking my email, and chatting with my online friends. And I can't actually turn the internet off like some suggest because I write on Google Drive.

For the record, I actually adore Google Drive.

Also, family is distracting. And Doctor Who. And stinkbugs. And life in general.

Write Horror: What is the worst thing that's ever happened to you while writing?

Um... I don't actually remember? Obviously there are all the times when the computer randomly decided to delete whole passages of my story without consulting me.

And then there was the time my cousin stole my computer while I was writing and started reading my story before I could steal it back.

But otherwise, I've successfully edited all the terrifying occurrences from my memory.

Write Joy: What's the best thing that's ever happened to you while writing? How do you celebrate small victories?

The best thing that's ever happened to me, writing wise, was winning NaNo last year. And I celebrated that by going to see Big Hero 6 with my sisters.

Other great things that happen sometimes:

I start crying over something I wrote. This is a big deal. It's also a good thing.

Someone gives me chocolate. Rarely, but occasionally.

I win a writing competition of some sort.

Stuff starts making sense. Because this hardly ever happens.

Other ways I celebrate:

I eat chocolate. (If I have any.)

I take a break.

I scream and dance and do something that looks kinda like this:

Only I'm unfortunately not as adorable as Jeremy Renner.

Write Crew: Who do you communicate with or not communicate with while writing?

My "Write Crew" consists of my sisters and my best friend, who are all writers as well. They are all wonderful humans and wonderful writers, and they're super supportive of my writing habit.

That being said, it doesn't bother me to talk to people while I'm writing, unless the person is the sort of annoying person that I wouldn't want to talk to even if I wasn't writing. Actually, it's another way of procrastination for me, and I really love procrastinating.

Now talking about writing is different. I will talk about writing online, or to my family, and definitely to my best friend, and if someone asks what I like to do, I'll say "I like to write", but around most of my friends and acquaintances, I keep my writing pretty hush.

Write Secret: What is your writing secret to success of hidden flaw?

There are actually lots of these.

Secrets

Write whatever you want. Don't get caught up on "this idea is stupid", "these words suck", "my readers will be mad at me" or whatever else. Just write it. If it helps, write like no one is ever going to read it.
Remember not everyone is the same. There's lots of really great writing advice out there, from really great writers, but if it doesn't work for you, it doesn't work for you. That is not a problem. Find something that does work. It doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you-- it just means you're your own person, and that's a good thing.
Sometimes you just need to scream, "WUT R WRDS" and turn on Chris Medina.
You can't write if you're not experiencing real life to write about. Don't hole yourself up in your room and write all the time. Get out there and do stuff. Have fun. Be normal. Talk to annoying people. Then go write about it.

Flaws

What? I don't have flaws. I'm a dragon. I am fire. I am death. I am perfect.

Actually, I wrote half a post about this a while back, so I don't think I'll go over it again.

Write-spiration: What always makes you productive?

Nothing makes me productive. I am supremely unproductive.

Something that tends to help a lot, though, is community. When I have people around me, supporting me, I can get waaaaaay more done. People are just awesome like that. (People are also awesome for word wars, which are really motivating, while we're on the subject.)

Besides people, another important part of my community is Whoot.

This is Whoot. He's my writer's block owl. He is also adorable. I painted him myself, and he holds a special place in my dragonish heart. He's very inspiring.

Write Peeve: What is one thing that writers do (or you do) that's annoying?

I hate it when authors use "interesting" dialogue tags. Think "gushed", "chortled", and "bubbled". Seriously guys, stop it. It's not interesting, it's distracting. I would infinitely prefer the good old-fashioned "said".

As for what I do, everything about myself annoys me. And everything about me annoys myself. Sometimes me and myself get so annoyed at each other that we stop talking to each other. But that's off topic.

Specifically writing related, I annoy myself by incorrectly using words like "you're" and "your". I know the proper usage. I swear I do. I just don't always think super carefully over every single word I write to make sure I'm not making typos. And then I look like an idiot and everyone gets annoyed with me. *cries*

Write Words: Share one sentence from a project past or present.

One sentence? PFFT. You're forgetting that I'm a dragon. I DO WHAT I WANT!!

"Damian!" cried Senator Robertson, throwing out his hands. "What a pleasant un-surprise!"

"The corn is very cheesy, thanks."

I make no apologies for cheesiness and sucky writing.

Senator Robertson face palmed. "Seriously?" he said. "Communication problems in the middle of an epic villain speech? Humanity is so annoying."

I really love my villain. Just sayin'. He's seriously the best.

"Shoot if you like," said Damian. "Now's as good a time as ever. I'd do it myself if I had the nerve."

He stared across the empty space at Damian's dark shirt, barely seeing it. His hand curled around the grip of the gun, his index finger finding the trigger. Damian deserved it. The metal was cool against his hot skin. His anger surged and sank and surged again, with each surge attaining new heights. He could see Damian's chest heaving unevenly as he stood waiting. Damian deserved it.

Because we had to end on a serious note. (We're so serious, son.)

And because I'm a dragon worth my salt, I'm going to ignore all rules and conventions and not tag anyone. *cackles*

But if you like this tag, by all means, help yourself...

Just maybe do it while I'm sleeping under a pile of my ill-gotten gains-- dragons don't care much for burglars.

So tell me about your writer's life! How do you cope with distractions? Do most people know you're a writer? What motivates you to write?

It's Wednesday, the seventh of October, 7:00 in the evening, and I'm drafting the sixth blog post I've tried to write today.

It's been a plot twisty kind of day.

I work a four hour shift at a local orchard on weekday mornings. I start at 9, get off at 1. Normally that leaves the entire afternoon for school (I'm homeschooled, in case you didn't know), writing, and blogging. But not today.

Today my sisters and I had music lessons. We were supposed to be there at 1:30, which meant I'd have to leave directly from work. With two sisters plus myself taking piano and two more taking harp, I knew we'd be there the better part of the afternoon (and yes, I have a lot of sisters).

But no problem. I could still get my blogging done. I'd started a post earlier that morning, and I could finish it at my piano teacher's, while my sisters were taking their lessons.

I grabbed my stuff together, put my piano books in a neat stack in the living room, plugged my computer in to charge, and asked one of my sisters to bring my books and computer for me. "And lunch would be nice, too," I added.

She responded with an okay, and I headed for the car.

"Don't forget my books, Gabby!" I called as I stepped outside. "Or my computer!"

Work was twisty today as well. It has nothing to do with blogging, so I won't dwell on it, but among other things, I forgot my water bottle (and the water at work tastes awful), I found out (after getting there) that I had a fever, and, because not all plot twists are bad, I got tipped! Twice! Generously! Which hardly ever happens where I work.

1 o'clock rolled around, and with it rolled my sisters. Or their car rolled. Or it's wheels. Something like that.

There were four girls in the car, I would make the fifth, and lots of music books, cans of motor oil, and other paraphernalia, because instead of my family's van, my sisters had brought my dad's car, a tiny five passenger affair that always has some kind of junk in it.

And of course they'd left the middle seat for me.

(I really love you guys.)

With difficulty I scrambled over my sisters, books, and boxes and sat down on somebody's school work. "What made you bring this car?" I asked in disgust, as I attempted to buckle myself into the cramped space. "Did you remember to bring my books?"

"Yup, right here." Gabby shoved them into my lap (as though I wasn't already holding enough stuff) and gestured to a sandwich in the cupholders. "Your lunch," she explained.

"Thanks, and my computer?"

Blank expressions greeted me on every side.

"You forgot my computer," I said, as a nameless foreboding settled over my soul (whatever that's supposed to mean).

"I didn't hear you ask me to bring it," said Gabby, her voice apologetic (because adjectives are better than adverbs somehow).

Well, that's just great. With no computer, how was I supposed to write up the blog post that I really needed to post tomorrow morning? Or die an unsuccessful blogger?

But it got worse. Or, if you prefer, more twisty.

This is how music lessons work in our family. My eldest sister (still at home, anyway) drives us to my piano teacher's, and drops me and my youngest sister off for our lessons. She then takes my remaining two sisters to their harp teachers' and waits until their lessons are over to return to my piano teacher's and recieve her own lesson.

(This is because our piano teacher is also our sister-in-law, and therefore much more flexible than their harp teacher. It's okay if we don't get there strictly when we're supposed to.)

Well, me and my little sister had our lessons, and then we proceeded to wait for my other sisters to return. And wait. And wait some more.

By the time my sisters got back and my oldest sister had had her lesson, it was 4 o'clock. It would take 45 minutes to get home (because we live in the middle of nowhere).

And then my sister took it into her head to go to the store.

We got home a little after 5, and, what do you know! It was dinner time. The afternoon was gone, and there was no blog post.

But no problem. I would just have to write it this evening. I might have to stay up late, but I could make it happen. We finished dinner, cleaned up the kitchen, and I headed up to my room to write.

And proceeded to be attacked by the most massive monster of writers block I have ever faced (okay, maybe exaggerating a bit). I could not get anything written. I abandoned one post and started another. And another. Whatever I tried to write, it wouldn't come out and I couldn't figure out what I was trying to say. And the more I obsessed and panicked over the fact that I had to finish this thing tonight, I had to have something to post Thursday morning, the harder it was to write.

And right about then my sister walked in and said, "You want to watch Doctor Who tonight?"

Duh, I wanted to. But I was busy. So I shrugged. "I'm writing a blog post," I explained. "And isn't Sam home tonight?"

Explanation: my little sisters aren't allowed to watch Doctor Who yet. They are still considered too young and impressionable, because it kinda is a scary show. (Sometimes.) So we can't exactly watch it in the living room where they can see it. We have to watch it up in my brother's room, since it's the only other room with a TV, and we're only allowed to do that in two cases. 1) My brother invited us up specifically to watch Doctor Who with him, and 2) my brother is not home and will never find out we were in his room without his permission.

Oh, and I think it goes without saying, but please don't inform my brother we've been watching stuff in his room the last several nights and haven't told him about it. Thanks.

Back to the point, my sister was a step ahead of me. "No," she said. "Sam left." She then fixed me with a powerful "you-know-you-want-to" look, manufactured to sway me into watching it with her (because for some reason my sister doesn't like watching stuff by herself).

"I-I'm busy," I protested, clinging to the last shred of an excuse because seriously, I needed to write this blog post.

"Oh, come on," said my sister, and I caved, because I'd like to see anyone with the moral fortitude to resist watching Doctor Who. (Actually, I wouldn't. That would just be sad.)

After all, I can write while I watch, right?

So here I am, watching Doctor Who and writing the sixth blog post I've tried to write today. It's been a twisty kind of day.

And if I'm honest, this post is really just me saying, "I had no idea what to write about today, so you get this." Because life happens. Because plot twists happen. Because things don't always go as planned. And it's okay to let those twists swing you in a new direction, take you out of your comfort zone, and make something completely new happen.

It's okay to blog about things you don't think anyone will find interesting-- sheesh, it's okay to not blog at all once in a while-- or to post late, or not have a graphic put together because you ran out of time.

It's okay to have a plot twist once in a while.

What are some real life plot twists you've been facing lately?

Sorry for the late post, but my internet has been sketchy for the last three days. It was sketchy today too. I really hate our internet.

(There is no graphic for this post because reasons, mainly involving the fact that screaming kids are very unattractive to look at.)

So recently I went on vacation. It was a family vacation, and I have an enormous family which includes four nephews and a niece all under the age of seven. I love my nephews, but, boy, can they be crazy (and loud) sometimes.

That Wednesday, the entire family assorted itself out among four different vehicles and headed down to a small island near where we're staying, where we like to bike around and eat ice cream and buy candy (and other stuff, but those are the important things), and, by some unfortunate chance, I found myself riding with my brother, his wife, their two sons (aged 2.5 and 1), and my other nephew (aged 6), who for one reason or another wasn't riding with his parents.

I like to think this will be me and my nephews in ten years.

Now, when we usually take a trip to this island, it's about a half hour ferry ride, and ferries run every half hour. But somewhere in the mechanical circuit of things something must have gone awry, because we spent an hour sitting in line for the ferry, and when at last we were boarded, it took another hour to reach the destination.

In all, I was in the car with three bored boys for 6 hours, round trip. And they screamed.

So, now you know the inspiration for this post, let's get down to business. Why characters are basically screaming children.

They will do anything for your attention.

My youngest nephew, Nicholas, has a bad habit of screaming whenever nobody is looking at him. I was in the seat directly behind him, and the moment I sat up and looked over the back of the seat at him, he would stop and starting grinning angelically, but if I were to relax and disappear from view (or even turn my head)-- more screaming.

Characters are similar. They're constantly there in my head, nagging me to look at them, and if I don't, they make sure I feel guilty for my cruelty-- or for my "bad writing routine". But once they catch my attention and I start playing with them, they suddenly start acting like angels and I wonder how I could ever have been annoyed at them.

They won't do what you tell them to.

"Nicholas, don't play with that." "Shane, stop screaming." "Liam, buckle up right now." Haha, good luck. Even when I was able to wrest away dangerous toys, placate angry sobs, and shove rambunctious boys into their car seats, it was never long before the chaos broke out afresh in some new direction. Little boys do not listen.

And neither do characters. "Do this." "Go there." "Say that clever thing." It all falls on heedless ears. They have their own opinion of what the story should be like, and even if I do force them into doing and saying the things I want them to do and say, it only makes other problems sprout up.

They leave you exhausted...

You wouldn't believe the emotional and mental strain that results from being trapped in a car with a ton of kids unless you've been there. There's the noise for one thing, and the constant requests. "Auntie, read this book to me." "I want my bear!" "AAAAAHHHH!!!" Then there's the fact that you have to keep a constant eye on them, to make sure they don't drink hand sanitizer or unbuckle and climb into the trunk. Before long, I just wanted to collapse in a heap and die.

Characters like to crawl into my head, scream at me, and drive me insane with their problems. The mental effort of coming up with the all the different character arcs and growth leaves me so tired, and all that time spent crying in the shower over the upcoming (or recently fulfilled) deaths doesn't exactly help.

...But they won't let you sleep.

By the returning ferry ride, I was done. Completely done. I lay down in the back seat of the van and tried my very best to take a nap. But by that time, the boys were all full of sugar and tired in the not-good way. They were making noise, climbing all over me into the trunk, throwing foam stars at me (don't ask me where those came from), and trying to talk to me every couple seconds. Sleep was not an option.

All my characters are night owls. The moment I lie down and try to go to bed, they all attack me with renewed vigour, begging me to write their stories. And then my Mom asks me why I can't sleep at night.

But, in spite of it all, you can't help but love them.

My nephews can be exhausting and crazy, but I still adore them, no matter how naughty or annoying they may be. I mean, they're my nephews! And they really are the cutest little kids.

No matter how much I hate your novel or writing in general, the one thing I can never bring myself to hate are my lovely characters. They drive me insane, but how can I not forgive them, when they're so adorable?

What would you compare characters to? Do you have experience with children? What's the most annoying thing about your characters?

Sometimes I wonder why I started blogging.

I used to write fan fiction. I posted my stories on FanFiction.net (and you can still read said stories here, if you wish), and, though it might seem egotistical to say it, I think I was a pretty well known member of the community there, when it came to Lord of the Rings humor (which was almost all I wrote). I knew a lot of people, got a lot of reviews (by comparison), and generally felt pretty confident in my own worth as a fan fiction author.

Of course it didn’t start out that way. For the first few months of my time on FF (as we affectionately call it), I had only three readers who reviewed even semi regularly, and two of them were my friends in real life. My first story still only has 2 reviews (it was really sucky). In the early days of my residence there, I often felt like I wasn’t making any progress and like nobody really liked or cared about my stories. But by the time my one year anniversary rolled around, I had come farther than I’d ever imagined, with stories I was actually proud of (a few, anyway), hundreds of reviews, and a boatload of friends who I really, really loved.

And then I started blogging.

Suddenly I was too busy to write fan fiction, or even read it. It became a struggle just to keep up with a single forum, and I completely gave up on trying to answer most of my private messages.

Instead, I was investing my time in pounding out blog posts, commenting on other blogs, and getting more serious about my original writing.

And it feels like I’m back to square one.

This is exactly what I was doing those first months of fan fiction. Maybe my memory is just suffering, but I feel like fan fiction wasn’t even this hard. I’m pretty sure writing blog posts is more difficult than scribbling funny one-shots. And it all feels so pointless. Why didn’t I just stick with FF? I could have kept on writing more stories and getting more reviews and making new friends. Instead, here I am, trying to start all over from the beginning.

When I started this blog, I thought of it as trying something new. It wasn’t really. It was nearly the same thing I’d done before.

To tell the truth, you’re not really doing anything new when you get another social media account or write another book. You're simply going back and doing the same thing you did last time you got a social media account or wrote a book-- just a little bit different.

(I like to think of it as if I’m time traveller going back and creating alternate timelines, if you’re not confused enough already.)

And you know what? That’s okay (going back to the beginning, not creating alternate timelines).

Life is all about going back to the beginning. We have to eat three times a day, and wash the dishes after every time. Every time a musician gets a song perfect, he has to learn a new one, and I think it would be touching too close to home to mention how many plot bunnies we writers carry around, waiting for us to be done with our current novel. Some people go to church every week, some people go to school everyday, some people feel compelled to go on a diet every couple months. We have to keep covering the same ground over and over again, and while it may seem boring, or frustrating, or pointless, that's life.

And it's okay, because once in a while something different happens. Sometimes you get something special for dinner, sometimes you discover a song you really, really love, sometimes your plot bunny turns into your best idea yet, sometimes you find yourself getting 200 comments on a fan fiction, sometimes you get the opportunity to beta-read another blogger's amazing novel, sometimes someone pins your blog post.

And all in all, going over that ground again is worth it. Even when it makes it feel like you haven't gotten anywhere. Because you have, and every time you try something over again, just a little bit different, it's going to spring something new on you you didn't expect.

So, in celebration of trying the same things over and over again (and my sixteenth birthday), I've made the leap and got a Twitter. It might not work out. I'm probably not funny enough to make Twitter work out. But it's about time I once more tried something that's not new-- just a little different.

Have you ever felt like you're just doing the same things over again? What's something just a little bit different you've done recently? Or you'd like to try?

I'm going to the beach.

I'm not leaving until tomorrow, but I've been crazy busy packing, stressing out over how my suitcase won't fit everything I want to take, and crashing on the internet to relieve stress. Which is why I didn't post yesterday, and why it's entirely possible I won't be posting again until sometime after the 12th. I sincerely hope that doesn't happen, but just so we're clear here, my family and my ~~sleep and pinterest time~~ sanity are higher priorities to me than this blog. (At least for now-- at some point I might give up on the sanity part.)

Also, when the beach is the only thing you can think about, it's kinda hard to come up with writerly blog posts, so there's that.

I said "apologies" in the title, but you know what?

Not really.

Have fun while I'm gone, all you peeps! (I'm sure I will.)

Disclaimer: No offence whatsoever is intended towards any persons, living or dead, introvert or extrovert, by this post. Really. Please don't get upset.

One of the largest and most frequented systems in our universe is the Internet, the original homeland of that rare and mysterious species, the Introvert. Few but these savage natives would dare to venture beyond the planets of Facebook and Amazon into more dangerous areas such as Tumblr and Wattpad. Fewer still would have the courage to own their own personal asteroids, blogs, and Youtube channels. The dangers are simply too great, and so it is that, to this day, the Internet is still primarily populated by the Introverts. (That's why it's called the Internet: Inter meaning the same thing as Intro, whatever that means, and Net meaning home.)

There is, however, another vast species, known as the Extroverts. Members of said species are more often comfortable visiting the Party systems, the Friends Forever systems, and such like, but there is the occasional Extrovert who, burdened with more courage and curiosity than is good for him, sets forth to explore the uncharted territory of the Internet. It is for such a one that this guide was created.

When encountering a Native of the Internet (namely, an Introvert):

Pay attention to the native's behaviour. Contrary to popular belief, not all Introverts are the same. Some, while labouring under the delusion that they are speaking to one of their own species, in their own home world, will act friendly and even goofy, much like an Extrovert does at all times. Others will act stiff and overly-professional no matter who they are talking to and where they are.
Adjust your behaviour accordingly. If the Introverts you encounter act friendly, meet them halfway. If they talk a lot and in all caps, respond in the same manner. If they are sweet but brief and uninteresting, try to imitate them. If they act aloof and condescending, make sure you act even more so, to give the impression that you are superior. In the first three examples, this improves your chance of them liking you. In the last, the Introvert in question isn't going to like you anyway-- might as well make it clear that the feeling is mutual.
Do not inform them that you are, in fact, an Extrovert until they have established that they like you. In most cases, after they have made up their minds (and even gone so far as to tell you) that they think you're a great guy, they will not back out once you reveal you belong to a different species. In the infrequent event that they immediately change their minds and decide they dislike you, don't worry. You don't want to be friends with people who are that racist, anyway.

It is entirely acceptable in some circles on the internet to randomly shout out things like "PARTAY" or, "TALK TO ME". In others, it most definitely is not.

Try to keep your head down in each new area you visit until you have learned the ropes. Once you've hung out for a couple months and gotten to know some people you will have a pretty good idea of what is socially acceptable in that community and what isn't. Just be sure not to send E Mails 1,000 words long to the wrong Introvert friend...

Many Introverts are actually proud of their "freak" status.

While visiting the Internet, you will likely find yourself being referred to by words such as "weird", "freak", "nerd", and "geek" by the other inhabitants. Don't get upset. For most Introverts and inhabitants of the Internet, these are all compliments. If someone calls you "nerd", it usually means he/she likes you and thinks you're actually pretty cool. In fact, it is likely that after spending some time in the Internet system, you will adopt a similar worldview and develop a deep-rooted pride in your "geek" status.

Some clubs and cliques are closed to Extroverts.

This is fine so long as you don't tell anyone you're an Extrovert and your Introvert act is convincing enough. With a little practice and self-control (especially in the way of excessive communication and social interaction), you can bluff your way into almost any community.

WARNING: You will at some point in your travels, whether soon or late, hear hate speech against your own species, the Extroverts. This is unavoidable.

Try to keep your cool. It only makes things worse when you lose your temper, or even when you try to politely correct those spreading such vicious slander. If you feel you must intervene, do not reveal that you are yourself an extrovert. Simply point out that "That's not a nice thing to say", in a way that befits a mild-mannered Introvert.

Sometimes it's best to just come out clean and reveal your true identity.

Not all Introverts are racist. Not all Introverts hate Extroverts. In fact, not all those you meet in the Internet system are actually Introverts at all. If that's your style, you might as well just shout out, "HEY! EXTROVERT HERE!" There may be some natives who will immediately retreat back into their caves to hide, and possibly even a few who will throw rocks and nasty epithets at you, but in general, Introverts are friendly and accepting, as long as they feel comfortable and accepted themselves. The Internet is where Introverts feel most comfortable because it is there where they feel they can be themselves without being criticized. As long as you don't ruin that understanding, accepting atmosphere, you will be welcomed.

Most of the time.

Are you an Extrovert? Introvert? Have you made any good friends who belong to the other group on the Internet? Would you agree that the Internet is more Introvert friendly?