Sarah the Summoner: March 2016

In the last post I discussed the meet & greet, so now it’s time for the actual concert. Before that let me get through some trivial parts first. Overall it was a great night and even wait in line. By the end of the night I had so many story ideas and art ideas it’s not even funny. Their beer was horrible, though that could be because I prefer mixed drinks than “pure” drinks, but their fire whiskey was good. I ran into a friend of mine who went to ppcc with me. The cutest little girl was moshing beside me, so excited for Delain and Nightwish to come on. And I got some sweet merch. The only band I can’t tell you much about is Sonata Artica. I love them now but the most I could do was groove and headbang along to the lyrics.

Delain

Charlotte Wessels is amazing live, she oozes sexuality. All women had great stage presences.

The songs played were:

Suckerpunch
Turnout the Lights
Sing to me ft Marco
Get the Devil Out of Me
Army of Dolls
It’s Not Enough

Nightwish

Obviously the band was awesome live. I feel a little guilty for not focusing on Kai and Troy that much except during ‘My Walden’ but that’s a small thing. Every member got very into their performance and clearly had a great passion for the music.

I loved it when Emppu gave the little girl beside me his guitar pick. So sweet.

Another woman actually crowd surfed (really surprised the venue allowed it. Nowadays no matter where a show is head crowd surfing, diving, and moshing are prohibited.) And another being held up by someone else, possibly to also surf the crowd, fell over the railing that separated us from the stage; the staff were so helpful leading her back around.

However, though they gave equal attention and gestures to the audience and every front row, Emppu and Marco kept looking towards me; my way, doing these really faces and smiles (I have a very expressive face and have a silly, playful humour).

Questions I have:

Why didn’t air piano ever become a thing?
Which member is part octopus: Kai or Tuomas?
America why can’t you learn a few lessons from Finland?
Will they come back here? Because the auditorium was much bigger than the clubs and bars they performed in when they were in Denver.

Saturday, March 19, 2016 No comments

Before I get to the concert and the meet & greet, I want to talk about a few things first so that hopefully readers and fellow fans know where I’m coming from (and possibly where the band members are coming from.) The actual concert will be the next text post to focus on the band meet.

I am a very humble person. I a m so grateful for what and who I have in my life. I’m not rich or part of the one percent, but I have so much, things that people can only dream to have. I have a home, I have family and friends who love me. I even have decent health. I struggle with learning as well as with openness, and life and general, but I appreciate all that I have and gone through, especially this past year. Bearing that in mind, I am so thankful that I went to the Nightwish concert last night and that I got to meet the band. Waiting four hours before the doors opened, and in the cold and wind, was nothing. Everything was worth it.

I met some interesting people, as a person often does with fellow metal and rock fans, got some video and pictures, and even got a few story ideas for my own fiction. Overall it was a good Tuesday night. So when the meet & greet began; I was excited. The only nerves I felt were from the fans that did not get VIP passes. As fans we met Nightwish in groups of 3—4. Of the group I was in I was the last to meet them, perfectly fine though. And for months I knew I’d give Tuomas a thank you note/doodle and it went well. I shook hands with Tuomas, Troy, Floor, Kai, Emppu, and Marco. (I told Tuomas that I was really thankful for this, his music, and how I listen to his music when writing my own stories. At floor I also thanked were for Wild Card and that it helped with my own depressive episode. And at Marco I said I love his growls.)

My impression was that every member is sweet and humble and their kind hearts make them all the more beautiful. None were “racist”, “sexist,” or an “arrogant bitch.” It just that with Tuomas and Floor there’s a certain reserve to them. Tuomas a shyness tendency and Floor an almost protective aura about her.

I say this because anyone who’s gone through this sees it in others more easily. I used to be incredibly shy, and at this point it’s merged into a sort of introversion instead, my shyness still pops up at times. Tuomas was amicable but even as a man there was a lowness to his voice; a voice that said, “Meeting people is great but take it slow. You can do this.”

Most shy, former shy, anxious-ridden people know how shyness affects them and how it makes them look to others. If you fall into that category you’re typically seen as conceited and distant when it’s just your quietness taking over. So most go into creative fields where they can easily be open and their nerves don’t get the best of them. Though it does excuse it, the open letter makes sense now, sense being shy you don’t want your words, your feelings to be a burden on others; beloved ones or strangers.

As for the fans’ perception of Floor, shyness appears to have nothing to do with this. Like Tuomas was open with the depression he had in his early years; Floor was just as open with her burnout. (Since burnout and depression intertwine so much I won’t go much into that aspect.) Most people who have gone through a mood, mental, or physical illness, tend to be cautious, even after several years of recovery. Floor, like most, will take precautions to make sure she won’t end up in that state again. That could be taking introduction slower more leisurely than someone who hasn’t gone through this kind of rough patch.

These are just some of the reasons I defend these members. The band DOES NOT owe us a meet & greet, a photo, an autograph, a hug, etc. The most they owe fans is a performance. Just like they know that fans DON’T HAVE TO pay for merch, for albums, tickets or anything. It’s our choice, just like it’s theirs. Since they have done pre-show meetings, the least both sides can do is offer a handshake, smile, and kind word. That’s all.

Although I think was helped me was my sweet, silly side of my humor when it comes to meeting any new person. When it came to handing my phone over for a photo I’m saying, “Dude who do I hand my phone to? This man? This staff member? I’m confused.” They all look the same. Photo went well and I said a last word that, “I bet you’ll kick ass.” “Thanks we try,” from Floor. (Got a chuckle from Marco and Floor too.)

I do realize that this won’t change anything. Everyone has the right to their opinion. I want to leave my readers with the fact that you shouldn’t take experiences at face value. Don’t base your impressions on cultural difference or one-time memories.

I love you all and wish you the world of understanding and beauty, as well as happiness.

–Sarah

Thursday, March 17, 2016 No comments

So I finally got my grade back on my first CW story. I got a C- (73) I'm not surprised though and I don't hold it against my professor because I did deserve that grade. I do like my story in a sense. This story will be my second comic book series but that's part of the problem though. I'm not focused on this story like I am with my current comic. Because of that I'll I know really is that a) my protag's name is Xander, b) he's stuck with a storytelling curse he wants to get rid of, and c) his best friend is Amber. Not that much as you can see. And I knew that that would be one of the issues my teacher would bring up in her comments: "What ,in fact, does Xander want?" Plus my word count was about a hundred words too short, that's a small thing though.Anyway one thing that inspired this story is the song 'Blackest Magick in Practice' by Cradle of Filth.

Xander woke up in a hotel room that day. He didn’t have a home anymore, if he did Xander still wouldn’t be able to go back to it. He could at least visit but no one would recognize him anyway, Xander changed faces the way people switched jobs. Today he was a dwarf while yesterday he was a woman. Tomorrow he could be a cat or a demon, and the only person that he knew would understand was Amber.

Amber.

He did this all for her. She was the only person he trusted with his curse. Amber never turned against him when Xander told her that he wasn’t the same person from today to the next. Instead she stayed when his face and body changed at dawn. Amber was the one who nicknamed him Xander instead of Alexander.

When he found out the reason why he constantly changed faces, to keep stories told so the world wouldn’t end, Amber offered to help him organize the tales then she figured out where he should go to gather the next story.

All she received was an early death because of him. The worst thought was that Amber wouldn’t blame Xander for it. He imagined that Amber was in the afterlife telling people that she always loved his stories and that now she’d get to be a permanent part of Xander’s journey.

For now Xander decided to hide and run, it was better than confronting Amber family and being blamed for her death. He flipped through the pages of the storybook, passed Mayan, Buddhist, and Civil War stories, and stories written in alien tongues. Part of him hoped that Amber would be in one of his stories now, he didn’t even find her name in any of the last pages. He just had her card taped to the back cover, the ace of cups.

—B—

“I don’t what you’re going to do. Cards aren’t specific. You asked to if you should continue this journey and you got the ace of cups reversed.” Amber said. “Besides if you still want to find him then this card won’t matter at all.”

Amber placed the card back into her deck and asked Xander where to next. They were just back from Canada where they picked up the last story. He walked back and forth from the apartment kitchen to the living room. His home was completely dedicated to his storytelling curse with nothing of himself shown anywhere in the apartment. It wasn’t like a camera could take a picture of what a person was and not just what they looked like.

“I don’t know. Until I find someone who can take this job away from me I’m stuck in their game.” Xander said.

He went back into the kitchen and pushed the book off the counter and pages scattered across the floor.

“Maybe these people are good. Who wouldn’t want to have all the world’s stories?”

“And who wouldn’t want to be someone else every day? I don’t know who I’ll be the next day.”

Xander went into the living room and slumped on the couch. Amber sat next to him and stared at him, he always got confused how his friend could look at him with an innocence yet piercing stare, a combination of the unknown mixed with a kind heart.

“So what do you want to do first when you quit your job?”

“Besides find out what I really look like? Probably move out, start traveling for fun.”

Amber twiddled her fingers and dug at her nails, Xander dug a cigarette from his pocket and lit up.

“You don’t have to do keeping looking for someone Xander. I could take the stories from you.” Amber said.

—B—

The idea popped into Xander’s head and forced his memory to the back of his mind. He could bring Amber back to life. He had a story of a witch who brought back a lover from the dead. Xander only read it once but he remember there was a spell to bring that person back to life. If all these stories were true than it should be that difficult. Xander searched for the spell in the book. He’d need a cat’s paw, a piece from the deceased (it didn’t say whether it was a possession or a part from their body), and a potion from each of the four elements. It was the perfect plan, witches did this, gods did this so why not a story keeper?

“Amber would be back and she could live any life she wanted and not worry about the dead. But how do I get what I need? Who do I go to get it?”

Stores don’t sell dead animal parts or magic. The only person he could think of that could help him was the man who gave him the storytelling book. Unfortunately he was the same man that took Amber’s life.

Xander circled his hotel room, his thoughts ran into a blur inside his mind. The man was as intelligent as a mountain and was as stubborn as one too. He shoved the stories into Xander’s hands and never answered any of the questions Xander had. He also killed his best friend and didn’t care that it was noon or that other people watched him kill. However at least Xander knew where to find him.

—B—

The bar was had few people there that evening. Smoke lingered around the bar’s edges along with faded memories. Everyone there had stories that Xander would love to know, he wished he could check one of them out to hear their stories, then return the person once he heard them. But what would be the point if they didn’t remember me, he thought. Xander recognized the whiskey and rum drunks, and the singer on the old corner stage though. He walked over to the bartender in the back who said the man that Xander wanted was in the cellar.

The cellar didn’t have much except creaking wood and aged drinks that went back decades. The man Xander needed was in the back organizing the wines before he saw Xander. He stared at Xander who stepped back to lessen the man’s look on him.

The man’s voice rattled and slurred when he spoke to Xander. For now they stayed in the shadows.

“What do you want boy?” the man said.

“I need your help to bring someone to life.” Xander said.

“Why?”

“Because you didn’t have to kill her, and you owe me. Tell me, where do I get the things I need?”

“That girl shouldn’t helped you. Keeping the world alive with stories is a one person job not two. Story keepers don’t need friends anyway.”

Xander walked toward him and faced off against the man, eventually he decided to help Xander. The man asked what Xander needed was handed the torn out spell from the book. He said getting a cat and all elements would be easy but that Xander would have to have a part from his dead friend too.

Xander bit his lip. Who knew black magic could get this dark? Is it really worth it to dig up Amber’s grave and steal it?

“Like?” he said.

The man’s face was blank. “Doesn’t matter. Hair. A finger, a leg, a tooth. But the bigger the body part the better. It’s not like people’ll know who you are, you can go there without anyone noticing.”

“And after I get everything?”

“Come back here and I’ll tell you how to perform the spell.”

“Thanks.” Xander turned to leave the man.

“Remember that the dead can be stubborn. This spell might not work.”

—B—

Xander snuck back into his hometown later that week. The darkness of this magic got to him the other night, Xander needed a break, a time to plan it all to clear his head. Every time he felt like backing down, he’s say, ‘Amber should have lived,’ or ‘What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t try at least,’ or ‘She’s too alive and silly to stay with the dead.’

On the night he went to the cemetery, Xander spent half the night to try and find Amber’s grave, it’s what he got for not going to her funeral and burial, and the other part trying to dig through the rocky ground with a rusty, old shovel.

—B—

You don’t get many friends like that. Xander thought.

Xander didn’t deserve friends but Amber at least deserved life.

Xander had everything ready. He sat in the middle of a forest surrounded by runes, charms, and magic just to bring his friend back to life. He bought the vials filled with the elements, the candles and paint were scattered all over the floor. Beside him was his photo of him and Amber and on his other side was his storybook. Alexander should have listened to his father, he should have listened to the fortune teller, maybe he should have listened to Amber when she read his cards but he couldn’t turn back now.

In front of Xander was the fire. First he threw the cat’s paw into the flames, the wind carried screams of the cat’s spirit into the fire. Next he mixed the water, with the tornado essence along with the tornado and threw that into the fire too.

He practiced the words the man taught him and the lines seven times. Lastly, along with the other ingredients, Xander tossed the scraps of Amber’s hair into the fire. He lit the candles and turned out the bright lantern before he said the spell again.

Say it. Say it. He thought.

Tuesday, March 01, 2016 No comments

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