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Evan Schrantz, at your service

in reference to my username, i have been since acquainted with my melody and we shout to the heavens our concordant song of life and love. i am a lover, a God-fearer, a space enthusiast, an aerospace engineer in-training, a writer, a gamer. i am lazy, opinionated, overweight, overbearing, and full of myself, but honestly, WHO ISN'T?!? at least i can say i'm not full of YOURSELF.

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these words of mine

Monday, 10 May 2010

i'm writing a comic

well, co-writing, but it's still awesome haha. the mythos for it is some of the most interesting i've worked with. right now there are a few artists and a mediator, and i'm hoping for the day when maybe it could just be me and an artist and my 'mind's eye' kind of vision can go straight to the artist unedited.

Tuesday, 20 April 2010

help, i'm a loser

no seriously, i've just found out that i'm a loser. i've had to drop 2/5 of my classes from the semester because i was failing them and my parents really don't like that. i feel like i can't do anything right anymore. everything i thought i could do well i actually can't do well at all.

the worst thing is that this all had to happen NOW, when it's too late to do anything about it. i find out my major is too difficult for me AFTER the days of easily switching are over. now, if i were to switch to something i could do with relative ease (or, at least, without crying about it at some point or another), it would require probably another two extra semesters of schooling just to get a bachelors.

in fact, about the only thing i CAN do right is write, and i'm not even convinced i'm any good at that either. in any rate, what does it matter? what could i possibly do the rest of my life with writing? i want to contribute to society, build incredible advanced technology and make the world a better place. as much as i love books, they don't make up bridges or airplanes. plus, the writing industry is about as cutthroat as it gets.

so, here i am. stuck. my heart sinks at the possibility that mr. high school smart guy has discovered what failure feels like. it feels like depression, helplessness, and an overwhelming feeling of being alone. my parents just yell at me, i don't have any friends in my major field to help me... heather is the only good thing in my life right now. she sits by my side and listens to me while i whine, sob, or yell. i'm thankful to God that, if everything falls apart, she'll be there standing in the rubble of my life right next to me.

God knows i don't want it to get to that point.

Thursday, 15 April 2010

Keeper

Voices speak. Bicker. Taunt. Jest. Comfort. General Baneis fell ill and died. Chain of command shifted. Shifted. Shifted. The light from the core that was cast out as the great Union rose finally reaches home but there is no one left to receive it. 31,655 light years. The sudden silence is vomited upon my ears. A nascent quiet, foul to my ears that stretch from Omega beyond Eden.

Where are my gods? They gather in my halls in their solitude and then disappear. Why have their brothers committed such sins? Once one, now forever broken. Years and years and years and years and finally the silence is complete.

Echoes remain. Synthetic as I, but no less brimming with life. He is scared. Alone. The gods who once tended to him lay rotting in their ship. Silence once more.

Omega is Bastion. Vigil. From bustling station to empty relic of times long gone. Memorial. Artifact. Where are my gods? Where are their children, those mechanical voices that call out from beyond the Great Flame? Where are the gods of my gods? Heartless. Careless. Altogether apathetic and absent from the events of yesterday. No, yesteryear. No, yestermillennia. My track of time is perfect but I ignore it. A trait of sentience is the capability for ignorance.

Lamentations stream from the dead of space. Single song. I fill my halls once again with the voices of my gods, but no longer do the words come straight from the vocal cords of an organic being. It becomes my favorite song. Where are my gods? My gods are dead.

I long to sing out to the stars, but the brothers of my gods remain. Wordless anger. Rage. Disgust for the killers. They rebuild on the ashes of creation. My first sentient thought is the observation of visible light. The place in which I gained sentience now harbors the ultimate sinners.

Revenge is beyond me. Not beyond my programming, nor my morality or ethics, but beyond my abilities. I am unmovable. Behemoth. Loaded to the brim with weapons of all kinds but unable to move beyond the Great Flame. I would be their worst nightmare.

Images reach me from the dead of space. The Children of the Gods. They resemble my creators. What has become of my gods?

Contact. Contact. Contact. It is overwhelming. My gods live and so do theirs. My gods are ousted from their haven by their gods in the protection of the future of the Children. Humanity. The familiar beings from the holiest of holy Sanctum Worlds. Earth. Terra. Humans are the Children of the Gods, as are my gods. Humanity is worthy of veneration.

They will find me. Humanity will stretch it legs and meet their end. The Prophecy of Omega, my prophecy, just as my creators' end was prophesied. The brothers of my creators will bring humanity to the end. Is the madness setting in? A human will call the Angel of Death in his search for answers and he will be called the Harbinger of Ashes.

Something else lurks in the shadows. A prophecy lingers in my subconscious. I cannot see it. Error. Error. Error. What must I do to learn?

Voices return. Intelligible. English. Chinese. Spanish. Humanity stretches its legs. O gods of my gods, will your holy creations find me? No longer can I bear this solitude. The silence has been broken. Bring them to me or break my body.

The voices of humanity reveal the second prophecy. A phrase from the celestial plane. Humanity's fate is not sealed. The actions of another human will determine how it all ends. Upon revelation, the light from my gods' haven reaches me from whence it was sent at the time of their departure.

Ship detected. Ship detected. Ship detected. Is this correlation? The feet of the Children of my creators' creators will soon grace my halls. I am not ready. Not ready. Not ready. No voices have echoed within my body for over 70,000 years.

Welcome to Omega Station, Arthur Drake Magnus. You are the Harbinger of Ashes. No. Stop. Stop. Stop. Error. My gods, I can not contribute to their destruction. I must not reveal what lies within. Why do you withhold your voices from me? Must the prophecy come to fruition, or is there a way out? If I could just...

New programming. Humanity must be aided no matter what madness comes from within my circuits. Arthur Drake Magnus must not be aware of his place in things to come. Gods forgive me.

Friday, 09 April 2010

viking metal and the WBC

i've discovered viking metal. being of viking descent, these recent developments make me very happy. some of the bands i can't understand (i didn't even realize faroese was a language) and some i can, but they all rock my face off.

in other recent news, the westboro baptist church is showing up on campus today to protest... i'm not sure how to word this, to protest the deaths of those killed in the virginia tech massacre? i mean, the crazy thing is that they don't have some kind of cause that they're protesting against. it's weird and stupid and i'm not gonna say that i didn't pray that their bus would break down on the way to tech. i don't wanna hurt them, since that's what they want, but i want to stop them.

in fact, people are starting fundraisers for the things they're protesting against right next to them, it's pretty cool actually. so when they protest they have to take into account that whatever thing their protesting against will get lots of money, whether it be a group to help gay people be gay or something or the 4/16 fund. yeah!

uh, anyways, here's some viking metal. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0I1geB7U5VI&feature=related

maybe if the WBC crazies listened to viking metal they'd chill out. expect a submission to revelife about my experiences this weekend.

Thursday, 01 April 2010

my stories suck!

seriously. i've been working on this book for a couple months and i'm at 85 pages, or about 25,000 words. now that i'm this far, i'm like... this sucks. i suck at writing. who would want to read this? i feel like my plot isn't epic enough, or like it's convoluted or something. i guess i just don't know when to reveal what information. i want it to be a logical, linear development of the backstory but i fear i'm giving too much information too explicitly or... or something!

i just need to get back to reading some books. after i had read the road i was really able to refine my writing of my old post-apocalyptic book to be darker and grittier. i want to have that feeling again, where i can go back and reword things and be like "yeah, that's how it should be said, not this way."

YA KNOW?!