21 May 2010 @ 05:07 pm
My strongest memories are of summer. Of the heavy weight of the sun on our backs, of your sound in my ear over the telephone, of your hand in mine while our bodies were flush. I remember how we fit together, my head to your shoulder, your arm to my neck. My arms around your torso and our ankles crossed. I remember four hour conversations where we discussed what to eat for lunch, what to watch on television, what we were going to wear that day. I never felt the distance between us. I remember movies. I remember always carrying a backpack with me so we could sneak out food in. And we'd watch the characters on the screen as we ate our french fries and shared a soda. When we watched horror films, you would dig my nails out of your skin, and when we watched comedies I would relish in the feeling of your hand in mine. We were going to wear duct tape to prom. Do you remember that? Do you remember long hours spent on buses, sharing a pillow, and sharing Teddy Grahams?

It was so uneven, it was so unfair. I took and took from you and you gave without a single thought. Everyone thought we were going to get married one day and I believed them. Even if we didn't, it would still always be you and me, somehow. I truly believed that everything would be okay as long as I had you. You were my crutch. I relied on you for everything. You were my mind, my beliefs, my emotions. You were my everything. My world revolved around you and you were my fuel, my breath. We shared the same jokes, the same non-existent friends. We went everywhere together. Our names were always connected. It went without saying that wherever one went, the other followed. We were us.

And I don't know how I lost you. I just know that I did. And looking back on everything it was so uneven. I was always taking everything from you and now I wish that I knew you so that I could give it all back. I want to give you everything you ever gave me and more. You shaped who I am today. We never dated, but my relationship with you is what I base all of my romantic liaisons off of. Maybe that's why none of them have ever lasted. Because no one will ever be as good to me as you were. I wouldn't ask them to. Yours is a special void that won't be filled again. I wouldn't want for it to be. As long as I have that hole where you left me, I'll always remember what unconditional love is like. I hope that one day I can be a good enough person to be able to give it to someone else, as you gave it to me.

I wonder sometimes what you're up to. What classes you're taking in school, who you're friends are. What do you do in your free time? Do you still have that stuffed sheep you carried with you everywhere? I'm so different from the person you knew. I try not to be so selfish, I don't wear scarves and bangles anymore. I brush my hair and eat dried fruit. I have no idea where my life is going. But you were always so driven. You knew what you wanted, and even if that changed from week to week you always pursued it wholeheartedly. I'm not strong enough to chase anything like that, except for you. I don't know if I ever will be.

Now, the summer heat is beating down on the overused pavement. The grass is fully green and holds no more hints of the winter drear that turned it brown. I look outside and see bugs fly by and if I were to step outside, I would feel the weight of our city's humidity beat down on my brow. Right now I'm sitting in my room, listening to music we never listened to together and wondering where you are. My fondest memories of you are of the summer. It seemed to stretch on forever. What about you?
Current Mood: nostalgic
...and Phoebe and Pearl both start with the letter P.

And it is from this idle observation that I have discovered my topic for my lit class essay. (Well, pending approval from Dr. Skelton.) I've done some preliminary research, just so that I could be sure it was actually writable, but I truly believe it is. And it will be a masterpiece. And, in lieu of me having anything going on in my life, I shall share my thoughts with you on this. Any criticism is welcomed, as it's been about a year since I've had to worry about doing an analysis on this level.

The House of Seven Gables' Hepzibah and Phoebe serve as both mirror and foil to the mother-daughter pair presented in The Scarlett Letter's Hester and Pearl.


I. Hepzibah
     A. Attitude in adversity (pessimism and defeat)
     B. removed from society around her/isolated
     C. Still need a C
II. Phoebe
     A. represents light
     B. salvation of Pyncheon family
     C. characterized as simple
III. Hester
     A. Attitude in adversity (perseverance and change)
     B. mentally isolated from society, but physically is within it
     C. still need a C
IV. Pearl
     A. represents sin
     B. redemption for Hester and whats-his-name Minister
     C. precocious
V. Similarities
     A. sufferance of guilt/blame
     B. Older-younger
     C. Not acquainted when guilt established
VI. Differences
     A. Surrogate v. true mother-daughter
     B. Placement of guilt (generational/ancestral v. self)
     C. need a c

It's still kind of weak because I need to refresh myself more fully on The Scarlet Letter, and I've done a minimal amount of research on it. Most of it's off the top of my head. My only real concern though is getting it in within the page limits. I have no problem meeting minimum requirements, but I'm quite wordy and have a tendency to go over (I once turned in an 18-page essay when the requirement was 10-12 pages). I'm really looking forward to researching this more and finally writing it. I hate Hawthorne, but for some reason I really like the idea of doing more research on this. I don't think there is very much written connecting these four characters, so it'll be fun to be able to form my own connections and draw my own conclusions.
Current Mood: excited
09 October 2008 @ 02:06 pm

Sunset IV by *angelreich on deviantART

There is nothing more evocative than a sunset or sunrise. It is the one image known to man that brings with it such an intense outpouring of emotion that it has become such a universally understood symbol. There is nothing else in this world with that sort of power. You can never do what a sunset does, nor can you ever hope to truly replicate a sunrise's magic. You can not do what it does with a puppy--what if a certain person is a cat-person instead? You could never replicate its power with a smile. Smiles come in many flavors and one person may take poorly to what was meant to be taken richly.

Sunsets and sunrises hold within themselves many symbols, each different yet the same from person to person. An end becomes a beginning, a sad thing becomes happy; Memories beget nostalgia begets stories beget traditions. Truly, this is a powerful thing.
11 September 2008 @ 02:59 pm
(from [livejournal.com profile] kelly_noel)

Post the first line from your 25 most recent fanfics and try to find a pattern.

1. "Stop! In the name of love, before you break my heart..."
2. He was a fool.
3. There was a reason he hadn't told anyone about Penny when they were dating.
4. Draco Malfoy didn't know that someone had heard his little tirade in the boys' dormitory.
5. "Do you realize what I would give not to have parents, Potter?
6. For just how long had she been a Takumi fan?
7. She threw herself on her bed, tears biting at her eyes, anxious to get out; she refused to indulge them.
8. 'I want to confess my feelings for you-'
9. As club ends, I bid goodbye to the last customer of the day to have the luck of designating me today.
10. We're lying in bed now, together but separate.
11. “It’s just snow. You do know what snow is, don’t you, Eliza?”
12. She’s beautiful.
13. The scent of your last days still clings to me
14. "Once there was a Japanese-Irishman, named Finnigan Washuu who liked socks. "
15. Liz Rider sighed as she walked down the hall towards the library.
16. She had quickly learned that she had little in common with other kids her age.
17. He was a fool.

(these next few are just from random prose because I luckily somehow lost much of my older fanfic)

18. She should just turn around and leave; she doesn't even know why she is here.
19. It's not that I haven't found my creative niche, it's just that my muse and I are now taking a small break from each other due to creative differences.
20. Gawd, I am such a dork.
21. “Why?”
22. “Is that it, Mom?”
23. How clichéd is this?
24. I am staring out my window, ringed by sage green curtains.
25. She sat there, waiting for his (was it really his?) response.

Ummmm....pattern. Where is the pattern?

Almost all of my writing mentions a female within the first sentence.


I tag you, pikachu!
Current Mood: sick
Current Location: Houston, TX
03 August 2008 @ 11:42 pm
Gawd...I don't think I can do this English class anymore. It's not that I think I'm right and the teacher is wrong. I just feel like she is poor instructor and a closed-minded person and I'm having a lot of difficulty finding any sort of drive to please her. I don't mind adjusting my learning/out-put styles to please a teacher. Hell, I'll be the first one to say that rule number one of any class is DON'T PISS OFF THE TEACHER (notice how I put that in all caps? that's how I see it in my mind.), but this is the first time when it really feels as if there is no point in even bothering with pleasing her.

It's not that she critiqued my writing. I've got no problem with that. In fact, please, I beg of anyone anywhere who reads anything that I write, regardless of context or even your level of authority on the matter, to please tell me what I have done wrong. Rip me to pieces if you must. I just ask that you be intelligent about it and only pick on things of actual importance. Don't fuss and moan over petty things. I am completely fine if a teacher marks my paper and takes off points for bad writing, god-awful grammar, stupid mistakes...things of that nature. However, this instructor felt the need to mark on my paper that the word "represents" should be replaced with "is symbolic of." I'm sorry, but I was taught that, when writing a FORMAL PAPER, one should choose the SHORTEST and MOST CONCISE wording possible. And, I'm sorry--this is just a personal problem I have with this--but what is the point of replacing a WORD with a DEFINITION of that word, especially when it is a commonly (at least, I would hope so at the level that this class is at) known word and the definition is longer than the actual word itself? And furthermore, how petty does an individual have to be to count off points for such a simple word choice "error"? I would understand if the difference in wording changed the meaning of the sentence, but how does changing "represents" to "is symbolic of" alter the point I am arguing?

Ugh... It's petty things like this that DE-motivate me and STRESS me out and convince me that a class and instructor are NOT WORTH MY TIME. Please, give me a hard teacher. I'm okay with that sort of person taking points off of my assignments--he or she could fail me and I would still probably come out grinning! But when a teacher feels that such a trivial matter should be the deciding difference between letter grades, I get quite aggravated. Please, make it something more substantial--using the incorrect format, not doing something the class was expressly directed to do, poor word choice that affected the meaning of the paper--but not simply using one word instead of another when it HAD NO DIFFERENCE in how the sentence came across.


Miss Brill’s donning of her beloved fur in the beginning of the story, and her subsequent casting off of it at the end of the tale, represents her superior attitude and her punishment for possessing such a view of her fellow park-goers.


Miss Brill’s donning of her beloved fur in the beginning of the story, and her subsequent casting off of it at the end of the tale, is symbolic of her superior attitude and her punishment for possessing such a view of her fellow park-goers.

I don't get it. Please, enlighten me here. Or, am I just wrong in trying to shorten an already lengthy sentence?

Now I'm off to practice repeatedly perform or systematically exercise for the purpose of acquiring skill or proficiency with my wicked air guitar skills to the sound of The Darkness' "I Believe in a Thing Called Love."
Current Location: Home
Current Music: "I Believe in a Thing Called Love" - The Darkness
Current Mood: irritated
26 July 2008 @ 01:39 am
There is something that has always been and will always be very intimidating about the first page of anything you may ever write. Be it an essay, research paper, novel, or emo-angst rant in your blog--it's frightening to look at a blank page (or screen, for those of you who are especially tech-savvy) and think--no, know--that you are the one who has to fill it. Geez...talk about being nervous-making! Perhaps the only thing worse than that thought is the one that you've got to find someway to start it off with a bif! bam! kapow! BANG! It has to be something totally stunning and completely BRILLIANT with sparkles and glitter and just the right amount of pizazz! Not only do you have to properly convey the tone and theme of your writing (which will, no doubt, be absolutely brilliant as soon as you can actually start it), you've got to do it in a way that captures your audience and keeps them captivated to the very end. It's not exactly easy. Why else would there be so many authors that aren't published? It's not that they aren't good--they just can't get that one hook down at the very start.

Says Scott Westerfeld,

There is a mini-cult of first lines among us writers. The first line is sort of like the lobby of the book: the first thing you see, coloring all subsequent impressions. It’s one place where you’re truly allowed to show off.

He, of course, is famous for such great first-liners as:

"Getting dressed was always the hardest part of the afternoon." (Pretties)

"We are all around you." (So Yesterday)

"I think New York was leaking." (The Last Days)

"The five small craft passed from shadow, emerging with the suddenness of coins thrown into sunlight." (The Risen Empire)

And, my personal favorite:

"The early summer sky was the color of cat vomit." (Uglies)

Let's face it--the first line of any sort of piece of writing, be it prose or poetry, is the very essence of the words that follow it. So, without further ado and for your consideration, some first lines (can you guess who wrote what?):

  • "The reason Weetzie Bat hated high school was because no one understood."
  • "All children, except one, grow up."
  • "We take pleasure in answering thus prominently the communication below, expressing at the same time our reat gratification that its faithful author is numbered among the friends of The Sun."
  • "I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my lids and all is born again."
  • "At the far end of town where the Grickle-grass grows and the wind smells slow-and-sour when it blows and no birds ever sing excepting old crows...is the Street of the Lifted Lorax."
  • "I am the people--the mob--the crowd--the mass."
  • "I taped the commercial back in April, before anything had happened, and promptly forgot about it."
  • "The Adventures of Captain Proton!"
  • "Mrs. Rachel Lynde lived just where the Avonlea main road dipped down into a little hollow, fringed with alders and ladies' eardrops and traversed by a brook that had its source away back in the woods of the old Cuthbert place; it was reputed to be an intricate, headlong brook in its earlier course through those woods, with dark secrets of pool and cascade; but by the time it reached Lynde's Hollow it was a quiet, well-conducted little stream, for not even a brook could run past Mrs. Rachel Lynde's door without due regard for decency and decorum; it probably was conscious that Mrs. Rachel was sitting at her window, keeping a sharp eye on everything that passed, from brooks and children up, and that if she noticed anything odd or out of place she would never rest until she had ferreted out the whys an wherefores thereof." (what a doozy!)
  • "'Christmas won't be Christmas without any presents," grumbled Jo, lying on the rug."
  • "I remember where I was and what I was doing when Bonnie Prince Charlie was killed."
  • "Mr. Jones, of the Manor Farm, had locked the hen-houses for the night, but was too drunk to remember to shut the popholes."
  • " Unhappy with a new treaty, Federation Colonists along the Cardassian border have banded together."
  • "Marley was dead, to begin with."
  • "One dollar and eighty-seven cents."
  • "It's a jazz affair, drum crashes and cornet razzes."
  • "Once upon a time there was a pair of pants."
  • "It was a dark and stormy night."

  • While we're here, what are some of your favorite first lines?
Current Mood: inspired!
Current Music: "She Floats" - Vanessa Carlton
Current Location: home...almost in bed
20 July 2008 @ 11:16 pm
Lately I've been missing my mouth when eating and drinking. (lol) So I've had a lot of spillage on my clothing. This is especially embarrassing when it happens when I'm on break at work, because then I can't change and have to go out on the floor in my dinner. :[

Speaking of work, we're finally getting ready for Halloween. :D We had our first batch of interviews today, and we've got some candy and Halloween items/costumes from last year out on the floor. (Don't worry, only the deco and costumes are from last year. The candy's new--I swear!)

I'm soooooo excited. Halloween is my favorite time of year, and it gets to start in August for me. 8D

Now back to my paper that's due tomorrow that needs to be peer reviewed before turning it in.

Have I ever mentioned I hate peer review stuff? I mean, I'm not saying this to sound high-strung or anything, but I'm a good writer. Better than most my age. It makes it really difficult to go over someone else's paper, correct it, hand it back to them with about forty red marks on it, and then get mine back with nothing on it and just the words "You did a good job." That really bothers me, because I'm not getting anything out of it. I would like it if I could get some sort of feedback, like "Maybe you should rephrase this so it implies _________" or "Y'know, a better word here might be ________." Instead, I get nothing until I turn my paper in to my teacher and get graded. And then, it's a kind of one-sided critique, because I totally miss out on the chance to explain why I chose certain wording here and there, and sometimes that little explanation causes a person to suggest a totally different turn of phrase there. I feel like I don't improve with peer reviews. I don't mind helping out my fellow class mates, but I really wish that I got something out of it as well. :(

Ugh.....back to paper.
Current Mood: frustrated
24 June 2008 @ 02:03 pm
Just a taste of what I'm working on, now that I've gotten up off my butt. It's nice to take a break from Dark Mysterious Matrix Girl and Emily. (And before you ask--yes, I am quite fond of the name "Abigail")

Interlude - Make a Wish

Tingle--the bells chimed. Someone had arrived at the little shop. But was anybody actually there to greet them? Although...whether or not the shop mentioned was actually in business was the real question. Dark and dusty, with a few shy scritch-scritch-flutter's to indicate the presence of mice, innocently disturbing the rickety peace in the shop--if nothing else.

The stranger steps forward, not quite tentatively, yet not quite certain. Her foot-falls barely sound on the dingy wooden floor as she slowly makes her way forward, in a manner questioning the shop's occupancy.

"Hello?" Her voice is tinny and unsure.


The sharp, high-pitched reply is followed by a large bathunk-crash-thunk-THAM! which indicates that several of the large crates, barrels, packages, and jars have fallen and broken. It is followed by a lower-pitched moan of an "ow" and the shuffling sound of someone trying to escape the debris.

Upon running to the location of the commotion, the intruder discovers a lone shop girl, sitting on an overturned crate and massaging one of her arms. The shop girl glances up, and the two girls stare at each other.

"Oh! Oh..." The shop girl jumps up, and momentarily attempts to straighten both herself and her mess, before giving up and stepping forward quickly and dropping into a sloppy curtsy.

"Welcome to the Iwik Shop. I am Abigail St. James, what sort of life may I assist you in discovering today?"

The visitor stares at the shop girl--Abigail St. James--mouth agape.


The shop girl catches her mistake.

"Oh, this is nothing--it happens all the time here. The shop isn't usually this messy, mind you. Mr. Locke St. James, the owner is out on business and it's just gotten a bit away from me at the moment. Come over here, I'll fetch you some tea." She takes hold of the younger girl's arm and gently pulls her away from the wreckage.

"Mr. St. James is your...husband?" Her tone is still quite hesitant and small.

"Oh no, Mr. Locke is my caretaker. He's watched over me when no one else would. This is his shop. I help him out as best as I can. It's my way of thanking him."

She leads her new charge up a set of stairs that had somehow previously evaded the girl's eyes and into a small back room where she seats the child and begins clattering about loudly making tea.


It's nice to be finally able to clear my head of the same two voices. :) I chose the title "Interlude" because it's an interlude from my usual characters.

Criticism? Commentary?
Tags: ,
Current Music: "Mother Mary" - Foxboro Hot Tubs
Current Location: Kitchen
Current Mood: busy
25 March 2008 @ 10:11 am
86. Choices
Rating: Not PG...maybe a G+? There's one questionable word.... :\

She sat there, waiting... )
Tags: ,
Current Location: NHC Learning Center
Current Mood: accomplished
20 February 2008 @ 09:42 am
Alpha Workshop

I want to gooooooo......sooooo baaaaadlllyyyy..... Damn Scott Westerfeld and my insistance on reading his blog. I want to goooo TT__TT

There's still time for me to apply....anyone got a spare $950 + airfare lying around? *is hopeful....NOT*
Current Location: NHC
Current Mood: crushed
20 February 2008 @ 09:22 am
I'm back to trying to finish my NaNo novel! I am so excited to be working with such a psychotic character again....Emily just absolutely fascinates me. I can't wait to get this thing done, and I know I have to at least finish it (even if it is months too late) if I'm going to have the guts to tackle another one come November. This time I will not end up in the hospital! This time I will write my 50,000 words and then some! This time I will not become so engrossed by a mentally derelict character! This time there will be sanity! And less murder!

Anyways...I've edited it a bit to fix some of the misspellings and absolute grammar no-nos that were absolutely slaying me as I was desperately trying to reach 50k. I've added a bit to it in some parts and I'm happy to say that my word count is merrily sitting at an 11,630 words and fixing to get up off it's butt and CLIMB.

Blah....so anyways, here's what I've gotten done. I hadn't put some of the more (well, then) recent entries to Emily's little letter/diary spree, so there is some new stuff at the end that you may have not read (if you had been reading at all), and I added some at the VERY beginning and, of course, as I mentioned before, edited the middle section some. Enjoy.

From One Devil to Another )

More on NaNo... )
Current Mood: hungry
Current Location: NHC
21 January 2008 @ 10:41 pm
Title: Broken Cliché
Genre: emo angst
Rating: G
Warnings: Will make you feel like an emo cutter

Broken Cliché )
Current Location: home
Current Music: The Tonight Show with Jay Leno
Current Mood: morose
04 January 2008 @ 07:14 pm
I noticed I have yet to post anything this year....problem solved.

Letters to a Stranger
Genre: Prose > Fiction
Most Recent Deviation from deviantART )

Unfortunate Thing )

So there. I posted.
Current Location: home
Current Music: "Do You Believe in Magic"
Current Mood: hungry
01 December 2007 @ 11:31 pm

"The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible."

- Vladimir Nabokov

"It is necessary to write, if the days are not to slip emptily by. How else, indeed, to clap the net over the butterfly of the moment? For the moment passes, it is forgotten; the mood is gone; life itself is gone. That is where the writer scores over his fellows: he catches the changes of his mind on the hop."

- Vita Sackville-West

"I would hurl words into this darkness and wait for an echo, and if an echo sounded, no matter how faintly, I would send other words to tell, to march, to fight, to create a sense of hunger for life that gnaws in us all."

- Richard Wright, American Hunger

  • a lick and a promise

  • ataraxia

  • contraband

  • halva

  • mantic

  • praxis

  • sapid

  • semilunar

  • serendipity

  • zeitgeist

"I began to write for myself - selfish as ever. I began to write as a catharsis, as a means of expression and to essentially explore the deeper recesses of my own mind. I think I've been rather successful in doing that and while not each and every thing I leave behind is so esoteric, it means something to me - and that is what's important. If others find meaning in my words and writing - and I know some do for I am told repeatedly - then how fabulous that we can share some spark of unity in communication! I will continue to write, because I love to write. Often I feel that aside from grandstanding, it is what I was born to do in life."

- Lestat de Lioncourt

Fix You )
Current Music: "Fix You" - Coldplay
Current Location: Home
Current Mood: pensive
24 October 2007 @ 03:39 pm



Today has been a good day. A very good day. My English professor today handed back our last papers (I wrote mine on lolita!) and I noticed that he had noted on my outline that I should see him after class. He told me that I was an exceptional writer and was I interested in having a sample of my writing included in a kind of sampler of good student works? Wow. I just...it blows my mind. Those of you who know me know that I've never really thought that highly of my intelligence. I've always felt I was a bit behind the curve, but now... I'm getting so much praise for my work (especially my writing!) and while it's a great confidence booster, I'm a bit worried that it'll go to my head... ^__^;

Ahhh....but today is a good day.
Current Mood: creative
Current Location: home
Current Music: Star Trek Voyager
23 October 2007 @ 12:24 pm


No....seriously...it is in how many days? Nine? I had such a concrete idea in my head, but then this other one spawned and another one spawned....now I have no idea what I'm going to write!!! TT__TT I am panicking so much right now, it's not even funny. All I can think about is NaNoWriMo this, NaNoWriMo that...NaNo, NaNo, NaNo... AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!



Don't forget to check out my little fundraising thing and donate to the Office of Letters and Light! XD
Current Mood: crazy
Current Music: students not studying...
Current Location: NHC
23 September 2007 @ 10:33 pm
Twenty people/places/items I would like to one day write about. Inspiration from here.

1. The Lost City of Atlantis
2. Obsessive-compulsive lolita
3. Faerie (as a place or people)
4. far-flung future-set cyberpunk land
5. displaced princess who ISN'T a damsel-in-distress
6. Dark Mysterious Matrix Girl (again)
7. some kind of magical orb-thing
8. romance (that can be an item...right?)
9. a girl by the name of Annika Hansen
10. supernatural Court (vampires, werewolves, demons, etc)
11. a school for magic (cliche...but whatev)
12. someone like Jerry Spinelli's Stargirl
13. someone like me (and painfully so)
14. a girl by the name of...let's say Elizabeth, who grows up to become a famous star ^_~
15. pen pals (with the story told through their letters/diaries/etc)
16. a love story with a ghost (but not necessarily meaning the ghost is the one in love)
17. masks
18. someone working in a restaurant as a waiter/waitress
19. purple
20. The City of Edge (think Gotham City on crack)
Current Mood: chipper
Current Music: "Link" - L'Arc-en-Ciel
Current Location: home
10 September 2007 @ 06:49 pm
First of all (this just rocked my world), I am--apparently--this super incredible WRITER OF AWESOMENESS. At least, according to my film teacher I am. Seriously, he went on and on and on to THE WHOLE CLASS about how I wrote this simply AMAZING PAPER that was the equivalence of LITERARY GOLD of something about THIRTY TIMES in roughly TEN MINUTES. Ummm...yeah? I think my entire class probably hates me by now BUT it is a GREAT RELIEF to hear this after I got rejected by La Vie as a permanent writer. SO THAT IS PRETTY COOL.

The greatest thing about the whole ordeal? THAT PAPER WAS NOTHING BUT 100% BULL. Seriously. It's just something I slapped together and I didn't even think it was that great. So I feel a bit weird that it got so much praise. I'm glad it happened...but it's just weird...

Anyways...For your consideration:

Criticism of Nosferatu, ein Symphonie des Grauens (1922) )


Also, in honor of the utterly brilliant and enlightened [livejournal.com profile] naive_wanderer: WHY UTERUS WHYYYYYYY?




I think I'm going to buy the white OP that Meta gave out in their Lucky Packs....because I want an OP or JSK and cannot seem to find any other that will allow me to afford Oni-Con as well. My only question is this: HOW DO I COORDINATE?!!?! Seriously, all I have are black shoes...so I can't really do shiro-loli. HELP! I do not want to buy more shoes (Ok...yes I do, but my wallet doesn't....) :\ I suppose I could go out and buy a small bit of white fabric to make a headbow...but WHAT ABOUT SHOES?!?!? GAWDS...I have NEVER lacked the correct shoes for ANYTHING. Probably because I buy shoes ALL. THE. TIME.

So help....
Current Location: Home
Current Music: "Hand Clean" - Alanis Morissette
Current Mood: ecstatic
23 June 2007 @ 01:17 am
I just realized that I haven't really written anything here in a long while. I don't know why, but suddenly, I feel so much more open, so much more at ease. I feel willing to open up and share my feelings with the world again. I think it's because of this post. It kind of opened my eyes a bit.

For a while, I would log into LJ and think, "Oh God.What is it that I can write that these people won't think is utterly stupid or petty or just flat out waaaay too depressing?" It became like a chore. It was...painful. Suddenly, I didn't want to share my once open life with y'all. I was missing the point of it all. I'm not doing this for y'all--I'm doing it for me. And, yeah, you guys are allowed to follow along on the ride...but, really, this is for me.

I...write for myself - selfish as ever. I...write as a catharsis, as a means of expression and to essentially explore the deeper recesses of my own mind.

--Monsieur Lestat de Lioncourt



BTW, sorry for the multiple posts....
Current Mood: realized
Current Location: home
21 June 2007 @ 09:03 pm
"I never started my online journal for the purposes of culling friends and admirers. I began to write for myself - selfish as ever. I began to write as a catharsis, as a means of expression and to essentially explore the deeper recesses of my own mind. I think I've been rather successful in doing that and while not each and every thing I leave behind is so esoteric, it means something to me - and that is what's important. If others find meaning in my words and writing - and I know some do for I am told repeatedly - then how fabulous that we can share some spark of unity in communication! I will continue to write, because I love to write. Often I feel that aside from grandstanding, it is what I was born to do in life. In years past I have been blessed with moments of what might be called enlightenment in those thoughts put to paper both here and privately, and I have countless souls to thank for their inspiration, again, both online and offline. That --- is what matters to me."

Recently, I've found that writing has become something of a chore to me. Suddenly, something that was once so easy and calming had become hard and forced. After reading this (which was actually supposed to be a kind scolding), especially the part quoted above, I feel as if I have found what I've been missing for so long. I have forgotten why I write. I write because I am selfish and because it makes me feel good. Not because I am trying to impress anyone or because I am trying to land a job or because I want to be published worldwide someday--I write because I want to. And yes, it's true that because of my writing I've been able to forge connections with people (whether they know it or not), but in the end, I write for myself. I can't let anything get in the way of that because as soon as I do, those words on the page are no longer my own. They are someone else's.

So, thank you, Monsieur de Lioncourt. Once again, you have found the most poetic yet straightforward way to say the truth of the matter.
Current Mood: enlightened and touched...
Current Location: home
Current Music: "Through the Glass" - Stone Sour