Alyxandra Sarik

     For the coming film adaption of the novel, Miss Peregrine's Home For Peculiar Children, I decided to take a delve into this curious tale myself.  Judging by the book's cover, you might think that this is a creepy children's book, possibly filled with unknown horrors.  Although man-eating monsters do roam the pages of this story, I wouldn't consider it so disturbing that it would ruin the overall experience.  Young, peculiar children may have to watch their backs, however.  They are the preferred meal.      Back to the lovely children's book: the story is about a young adolescent, named Jake, who goes on a journey to find out what happened to his seemingly disillusioned grandfather before his mysterious demise.  Jake's quest leads him down a path he never could have foreseen or imagined.  A world where there are people with amazing abilities, queer attributes,  and dangers only thought to be in fairy tales.  H...

     I admit.  I have never read Stephen King before, nor many other classically well-known American authors of today's modern culture.  Most of my reading history contains Christian literature and supernatural fantasy of Christian origins as well.  So I am on a quest to change that, beginning with all the secular classics to broaden my horizons.      I started with Stephen King because I am enthralled by the dark side of storytelling.  The heart throbbing, pulsating effect that a twisted morale can inflict.  And everyone knows that King's stories are ingrained with darkness.      Now I am not so sure that The Dark Tower series was the best choice for me to be dragged into the Stephen King bandwagon.  Reading The Gunslinger was an odd experience if I could put it simply.  Maybe I am just not familiar with his method of storytelling, but how he plotted this first book had me in a state of confusion fo...

     Dark clouds overhang melodramatically in the Minnesotan skyline this afternoon.  They tease at the possibility of an April shower tonight, but you could never be quite sure.  It was Minnesota after all.  I am sitting in a Caribou coffee shop in the midst of the Edina corporate jungle, looking out large open windows to a concrete view of traffic.  My writer self is trying to get me to take this time and write something.  Something.  Anything.  I was writing a story, but it is dying a slow, painful death like the future of my creative career.  How does a writer find their story?  According to the picture painted by the media, a writer without a story is the most depressingly hopeless creature in this ecosystem.  They are doomed to be snuffed into a dark, dusty closet, desperately searching for inspiration through any crack of light they find.      I feel like the writer, Alan Bennett, from the film, The...

      Once again, its been forever since I've last posted.  I promise that one day I will get this blogging thing down.  One day...  But anyway, its time for a life update.  I am now 20 and happily married.  Going to be starting college this coming fall after two years of education absence.  Super excited to get that creative writing degree.  I've also started a new novel that I believe I'll actually finish this time.  Its set in a fantasy world where dragons have come alive again and my main character is a vengeful assassin who is out to kill the people responsible for murdering her kin.  Its basically a mash up of a murder mystery and fantasy.  We'll see how that goes.      Anyway, I should probably mention what it is like being married at such a young age.  I was 19 when it happened, not too long ago in September.  My husband and I live all alone in our apartment, we both work full time jobs, ...

     Welcome to the rambles of my philosophical ponderings.  I am delighted you have found your way to my corner of the universe yet again!  So recently I have engaged myself in the gruesome task of employment. Twelve long hours do I sacrifice to the promise of money.  Heinous, if I do say so myself.  Nonetheless in this reality it is deemed quite necessary if one were to afford a decent livelihood.  It is the American dream to indebt ourselves to universities, cars, houses, etc.  If you dare have no want for such things, beware of judgmental gawking and reproving jests. But how could you not?  They provide comfort and a sense of security.  A safe environment for present or future offspring.  This is how the world works.  You reap what you sow. But seriously, should we not have any other reason?  Is security that important where we are willing to give up everything to achieve it?  Our time.  Prerequisite am...

Water Walker (The Outlaw Chronicles #2) by Ted Dekker My rating: 5 of 5 stars Reading Water Walker had a very personal impact on me. It was like reading my own life reflected on the pages of a book because I could really relate to the story in many ways. Having faced trials with my own mother regarding obedience, spirituality and sheltering, Dekker really hit a personal chord for me. But it was how he wrapped up the story which made it so beautiful. As I was reading it, I wondered why was he portraying Christianity as a manipulative, self-righteous, and mindless lunacy. I know that many Christians can be like that, but where can the line be drawn for holiness and surrender to God and blind madness? But then I realized, the purpose of the story isn't to dismiss following after God, but to show the difference between the two. I love the message of the story, to believe in God is to trust Him, and because you trust Him you have the power to do anything. That is true ...

“I will dance and resist and dance and persist and dance. This heartbeat is louder than death.” ~ Suheir Hammad Where are you going?   My thoughts asked.  The familiar apartment front door, which had always greeted me so warmly in times past, now stood before me.  Its closed doors loomed over me like a haunting death sentence.  I shivered as my feet stood implanted onto the asphalt street like stone.  Thunder exploded in the overcast skies.  There was going to be a thunderstorm tonight.  I hated thunderstorms.  They unnerved me.   Where was I going?  I was going to hell that’s where.  Which was why I shouldn’t be here.   Here wasn’t a place a person like me should be.  I pulled tighter at what was left of my scanty torn dress to try to cover my exposed body against the cold.  I felt naked. Why are you here? Did I know?  Perhaps a part of me still believed I could get a second chance.  Another s...