9 years ago
Sunday Scribblings #173 - Nowhere
For the SC prompt— Where in the world?
Mars was on the run again.
He previously decided to hide in a room, but despite it's normal appearance, it wasn't.
It was a quaint room with a crackling fire and plush sofas set around a coffee table. It was oh so similar to home that he made himself comfortable accordingly... Then things spoke. Even the most ordinary objects suddenly drew sharp breaths, scolding the very sight of him. They even went as low to criticizing him for having a face when only the Matriarch—if he recalled correctly—and her Knights were the only ones allowed faces. It was then and there that he decided to run for his life and not look back—
He was in a hallway, wide and empty. To the side of him were three-story tall windows, triangular-shaped, like arrowheads lined up a few inches apart. Each shimmered as if made of crystal, enhancing the sight of the garden behind it. Mars followed this path, hoping it would lead him to that garden. He hoped that entering the garden would end this terrible dream because that was how the majority of his dreams ended in the past—
He always ran, it seemed, always ran from something. If he were to look back, whatever landscape was left was encased in ice and the ice didn't show any notion of stopping unless it engulfed everything in it's path. And always there was a light he ran to, and beyond that light was the warmth of a garden in summer. Staring up at the sun in the sky, the blinding sensation subsequent to that would wake him...
The hall was unusually quiet, it had been for the ten minutes or so the second he darted out of that room—if not ten then something close to it. There was no way of telling time in this infernal place. Adjacent the triangle windows were rows of doors. And with those rows of doors—all equally tall but more narrow—were patches of bare wall. On those patches were clocks, all different sizes and shapes and colors, and all with no face, just the numbers and the second hand ticking away. All those monotonous ticks and tocks, put together with the patter of his feet on the polished floors—it all couldn't have been anything else but a dream!
Mars was on the run again.
He previously decided to hide in a room, but despite it's normal appearance, it wasn't.
It was a quaint room with a crackling fire and plush sofas set around a coffee table. It was oh so similar to home that he made himself comfortable accordingly... Then things spoke. Even the most ordinary objects suddenly drew sharp breaths, scolding the very sight of him. They even went as low to criticizing him for having a face when only the Matriarch—if he recalled correctly—and her Knights were the only ones allowed faces. It was then and there that he decided to run for his life and not look back—
He was in a hallway, wide and empty. To the side of him were three-story tall windows, triangular-shaped, like arrowheads lined up a few inches apart. Each shimmered as if made of crystal, enhancing the sight of the garden behind it. Mars followed this path, hoping it would lead him to that garden. He hoped that entering the garden would end this terrible dream because that was how the majority of his dreams ended in the past—
He always ran, it seemed, always ran from something. If he were to look back, whatever landscape was left was encased in ice and the ice didn't show any notion of stopping unless it engulfed everything in it's path. And always there was a light he ran to, and beyond that light was the warmth of a garden in summer. Staring up at the sun in the sky, the blinding sensation subsequent to that would wake him...
The hall was unusually quiet, it had been for the ten minutes or so the second he darted out of that room—if not ten then something close to it. There was no way of telling time in this infernal place. Adjacent the triangle windows were rows of doors. And with those rows of doors—all equally tall but more narrow—were patches of bare wall. On those patches were clocks, all different sizes and shapes and colors, and all with no face, just the numbers and the second hand ticking away. All those monotonous ticks and tocks, put together with the patter of his feet on the polished floors—it all couldn't have been anything else but a dream!
A Riddle!
"I know not what is ahead of me.
I am capable of understanding and time-traveling.
I am also bound by a twisted array of what's imaginary and real -
What am I?"
In which the writer speaks to her other self
I must be crazy to start writing spontaneously from a list I made up yesterday. A total number of 32 titles - unless I add more of course. I call it the "Possible Title List" because I was thinking up of a good title for that vampire story (so far still unnamed). I said to myself, because I was getting possible titles for everything else BUT that story, "Why not write them out?" And I did.
One of those titles was -
The Castle of Cloud/Klaude/Klaude's Castle
So now you know why I had that piece up in the past post. Now for the angry part.
"Why did you start this now?!!?" *headdesk*
Now for the excuses part.
"Just to start writing so I can follow up with the unfinished chapters in the other stories."
Now for the "You idiot" part.
"Still, you should've left it as a one-shot, you idiot."
And then for the "Wait a minute" part.
"Wait a minute, it isn't like I knew it was going to blow out of proportion. Besides, it's for fun. It has no deadlines or anything of the sort."
"But so is everything else you started - except that one thing a year ago... Still. you should've waited maybe, or thought it over. Working on three stories while having to cough up drawings? What are you doing to yourself?"
"Doing what I love of course. Writing, drawing... I know it should matter because everyone else I know has their futures laid out for them while I don't. One's getting married, the others going to community college to study, another is moving out and another is probably going to go nowhere (no offense whoever I'm talking about, I'm pulling out examples from my currently dead brain). The uncertainty, of course it scares me, but I can't sit here and worry about things that don't exist!"
"Your point?"
"So... My way of coping - way of staving off the worrying - is to write what I've always wanted to write about, whatever comes to mind, whatever troubles I'm going through - every single thing that I see and hear goes into my writing somehow. It's the medium that I'm much more comfortable expressing myself freely."
"...you do know your setting yourself up for a great fall? Those worlds you've created, yes, those you hide yourself in, eventually it'll consume you whole and what will happen then?"
"That's why you're here. you can stop that from happening."
"But you don't listen!"
"Okay. Yes. I admit, I write sometimes on impulse -"
"Sometimes?"
"Hey, you've got to give me some credit now. I write because I want to and I can. Sometimes it's impulse, sometimes it's obligation or determination to see those chapters accumulate in your documents folder or get to a certain scene you particularly like."
"...okay."
"But talking about writing is so much more simpler than actually doing it. It's actually - everything, life, drawing, writing...not so much writing, just some specific stories are giving me trouble at the moment - starting to collapse, like the floor just...dissolved, or is dissolving slowly. I feel I need guidance, yet I don't want it."
"There's an easy solution."
"What?"
"Get out more. Walk the block - and not in your head or just down the stairs - actually go outside, wear pants and shoes and walk. The thing when writing, everything consumes you even if there is no specific rise in word count. The worlds, the characters - their voices, desires, loves and hopes and their fate - you hold them all in your mind and that wears you out. Before you know it everything mixes together, becoming a single monstrous entity that you carry like Atlas and the sky. So, mentally, you get crushed and maybe you can take the pressure but it eventually gets to you. You know your limits but even then you disregard that - thinking you're invincible - and push the envelope. And it's all for the characters."
"I love them all, shouldn't that matter?"
"Yes. but, love itself is like fiction. It isn't a physical like a person. It's an idea, an emotion - a character - and is malleable. It's definition is different for everyone and is used in different ways. Love is indirect. Adoration is a bit more closer to being clear with what you say. Think of it like this: Love is to Adoration; Beautiful is to Attractive; Movie characters to the Working man, you know, that guy working down the block at the construction site. You don't see them whistling."
"Now it's my turn to ask your point."
"Of course you love your characters. You made them. But you can't physically show them you care and vice versa. They don't exist so your love is, as it's multiple definitions, very empty. You're only saying it to give them more meaning."
"And...?"
"That'll kill you. You fear Death. I know you - I am you - and you don't want to die not doing anything."
"Sure. But the mad part of being a writer - the madness of being "brave" - is to face your fear."
"Oh. Right. Like being "brave" in writing is helping you in real life."
"Okay. I'll consider that -"
"It's true!"
"Alright. But I don't want to live in real life..."
"There's your problem."
"But it isn't like I know that. Since we're being honest, I envy everyone else who isn't missing out on...on whatever this time of our lives is supposed to be... BUT, I do not envy the things that some people do to themselves just to "live" among other teenagers. At least, what I'm doing, isn't so life-changing as, say, having a baby when you're seventeen."
"..."
"I don't want that kind of "real-life." My "real life" is different. Besides, this is summer. My last summer as a k-12 student. Next year it'll either be "college kid" or "freeloader." You'll just have to see - that's what everyone says."
"... Being uncertain is killing me."
"And I embrace being uncertain."
"This is giving me a headache."
"I know - I'm you remember?"
"Why the hell be a writer? There's the options of being an illustrator...or a psychologist. Ach, this ache is killing me..."
"Haven't I already covered that?"
"In a nutshell, please."
"I'm insane, duh."
Klaude's Castle
I said I was going to write today so here I am trying to start it off with a one-shot (or something of the sort). There will be an actual blog post soon (if I manage my time right). So here you go, a story written right on the spot out of a list I have of titles along with their possible stories.
. . .
Klaude's Castle
Act I, Scene I
Klaude's Castle
Act I, Scene I
Where the heroine dreams up a name.
There's a land far from our reach where magical entities reign. Where people are able to harness such energies as their craft and other such entities created by magic are the norm. Those people are called magicians and this world is called Acadia. Though each individual has these powerful elements under their control, they are given a set of rules to follow.
Some are plain ridiculous, such as:
And the list goes on and on... But, there are some rather serious rules too. For example:
And that list goes on as well.
But that list is nothing to the Mortal world, nor do they acknowledge the fact that such a list exists. They do know that there is a certain magician (for the magical world they are somewhat aware - awareness has been going down since the Resurgence) causing trouble in the land and that there might be the Mortal world's prince held captive there, stolen from the castle a year or so ago. And as the Queen bore two sons, the other prince is safely guarded while numerous armies sought the magician whenever he decided to appear.
This business however, is unseen by the Council (who are, ironically, supposed to be able to See everything) and goes unattended. Normally, this would be a cause for concern if only, say, their world was in the midst of a war... And they, coincidentally, were.
Magicians, in truth, had no interest/business with the Mortals but this magician made it his business for reasons unknown. Besides staving off the armies on a semi-regular basis (or anyone that was sent or willingly volunteered - the fools) the magician roamed the lands in his equally moving castle (or floating castle since it's enormous shadow could be mistaken for the clouds constantly present in the sky).
No one knew the magicians' name - not his real name - but he was definitely a man, and quite a looker by rumors and such. Others said he was ugly, grotesque, a despicable man who liked to drink as much as he liked the young women. Then there were those that said he was absent-minded, a dreamer, someone who rarely smiled but if they did then your heart would stop in an instant - it doesn't help when the women are the ones gossiping about this peculiar magician but rumors are rumors and should be considered...to an extent.
This, all of this, she knew. The list, the existence of the world beyond and of the magician. She also knew of the captive prince and of the war - she believed the theory that the clouds were there because of the war - and she knew something about this magician that the others didn't (though she herself did not know the importance of it).
This magicians' name was Klaude - pronounced as one would say "cloud" - and she found this out in a dream.
Some are plain ridiculous, such as:
1. No wooden houses, furniture, or other perishable (burnable) objects allowed in public or in the home. If one desires to have such objects in their possession, one must file for a permit (in which a fee is administered, for the permit and for how many objects of such perishable nature are under the owner's possession). If one were to be found with perishable objects, they shall be fined - 1,000 crowns worth for every single piece (that includes wooden chips).
2. Do not run with staves or any such magical object with a temper (translated: do not run with magical objects in public - if you're by yourself that is fine (but that too isn't recommended)).
3. No enchanted pointy objects (like scissors - unless you are a hairdresser).
And the list goes on and on... But, there are some rather serious rules too. For example:
1. Absolutely no descending to Mortal grounds without a specific reason filed to the Council. Everyone (of considerable status) is given one day (seven in Mortal time) for the entire year (once every 52 days). If and ever that time is not enough, you must have a permit (and reasonable answer/request as to why).
2. No consorting with the Mortals or bringing one along. You will be arrested and the Mortal will be executed.
3. Absolutely no displays of magical power when among the Mortals. You will be arrested and convicted for Treason (meaning, you will be executed no matter what).
And that list goes on as well.
But that list is nothing to the Mortal world, nor do they acknowledge the fact that such a list exists. They do know that there is a certain magician (for the magical world they are somewhat aware - awareness has been going down since the Resurgence) causing trouble in the land and that there might be the Mortal world's prince held captive there, stolen from the castle a year or so ago. And as the Queen bore two sons, the other prince is safely guarded while numerous armies sought the magician whenever he decided to appear.
This business however, is unseen by the Council (who are, ironically, supposed to be able to See everything) and goes unattended. Normally, this would be a cause for concern if only, say, their world was in the midst of a war... And they, coincidentally, were.
Magicians, in truth, had no interest/business with the Mortals but this magician made it his business for reasons unknown. Besides staving off the armies on a semi-regular basis (or anyone that was sent or willingly volunteered - the fools) the magician roamed the lands in his equally moving castle (or floating castle since it's enormous shadow could be mistaken for the clouds constantly present in the sky).
No one knew the magicians' name - not his real name - but he was definitely a man, and quite a looker by rumors and such. Others said he was ugly, grotesque, a despicable man who liked to drink as much as he liked the young women. Then there were those that said he was absent-minded, a dreamer, someone who rarely smiled but if they did then your heart would stop in an instant - it doesn't help when the women are the ones gossiping about this peculiar magician but rumors are rumors and should be considered...to an extent.
This, all of this, she knew. The list, the existence of the world beyond and of the magician. She also knew of the captive prince and of the war - she believed the theory that the clouds were there because of the war - and she knew something about this magician that the others didn't (though she herself did not know the importance of it).
This magicians' name was Klaude - pronounced as one would say "cloud" - and she found this out in a dream.
Remember when I said I wasn't going to post cat pictures...
...yeah.
So I spent the whole afternoon fixing the blog up and I needed a cat picture to cheer me up (that is my excuse).
Yes. I was going to write - I even planned on it and had all my notebooks and docs out - but I underestimated the power of the blogger template and I couldn't rest till I had just the right one (or close to it).
...Currently I'm tired :) and should've slept a long time ago.
That'll be all (I hope) for the blog re-vamp (for a considerable amount of time that is). >.>
There's no nav bar! I had to take it out or else the template wouldn't look right. Click on blogger instead.
In which I'm a bit overwhelmed...
...and am lazy enough to not think of a more imaginative title.
So I'm sitting here thinking of a rant I could type up. A few seconds later, I change my mind - "who would want to read a rant," I query, "I do doubt that I'll make much sense." So this won't be a rant (hopefully) - and it's not directed at anyone here either (many of my rants aren't anyway). :)
Sunday Scribblings #172 - The Plan
I'm caught between a crossroads and I'm not sure what to do. One side says write, the other says draw, going forward means I'm stalling till I get to another crossroads and, who knows? That might be the last time I get to stall my way through? *sighs*
Anywho, I found this site where a published writer gives advice (here). I thought it was pretty helpful. :) Oh. And here's something I'm reading at the moment.
One last thought - I was thinking of starting a sketch blog of some sort. you know, take pictures (or scan but mine isn't working) of things that were drawn and post it for everyone to see. I really do draw a lot but never upload them to sites like deviantArt if it isn't finished in some way. And I do not like uploading sketches either - it looks like crap since it's like an online gallery/portfolio.
Ah, there's my thoughts for tonight.
So I'm sitting here thinking of a rant I could type up. A few seconds later, I change my mind - "who would want to read a rant," I query, "I do doubt that I'll make much sense." So this won't be a rant (hopefully) - and it's not directed at anyone here either (many of my rants aren't anyway). :)
Sunday Scribblings #172 - The Plan
Why not write? Just write.I suppose I'm fairly upset because 1) I keep writing for ch.7 of YZ but it FAILS every single time and I have to start over 2) I'm caught between wanting to draw because I've got some people counting on me now (three or four - including myself since that was my first career choice) 3) It's super, super, super HOT and dry and we're trying to save electricity by not turning on the AC.
Technical terms literally cramp my style - my voice -
You're killing Art did you know?
Overly literal
Overly realist
Sometimes over-thinking situations can land you in the gutter - how very sad -
To you
From me
A present of everlasting scorn - Happy Birthday -
Here's my broken piece of Art
wrapped all nice and pretty and scented of the most pleasant smell -
It's just what you wanted isn't it?
Loosen up
Chill out
Make the best of your time instead of moping about -
Quit marching around -
only one of the many participating in Their Grand Plan -
Get the hell out of that gutter and move the way you want to
We all have a song, a beat, we move to
We may not agree but we walk a similar path -
Don't ask questions about Art
Just Do It.
I'm caught between a crossroads and I'm not sure what to do. One side says write, the other says draw, going forward means I'm stalling till I get to another crossroads and, who knows? That might be the last time I get to stall my way through? *sighs*
Anywho, I found this site where a published writer gives advice (here). I thought it was pretty helpful. :) Oh. And here's something I'm reading at the moment.
One last thought - I was thinking of starting a sketch blog of some sort. you know, take pictures (or scan but mine isn't working) of things that were drawn and post it for everyone to see. I really do draw a lot but never upload them to sites like deviantArt if it isn't finished in some way. And I do not like uploading sketches either - it looks like crap since it's like an online gallery/portfolio.
Ah, there's my thoughts for tonight.
In which I talk like a pompous dolt.
I keep springing these cat photos don't I? On the next post I'll try not to place a cat photo - note I said try.
Another break - again - since all I seem to do with my free time is watch Comedy Central (it's one of the few channels available for some reason) and write. Okay, so maybe I read here and there and do other human stuff - but, nevertheless, it is somewhat boring (when I put it this way).
Despite my mind wandering off into the various worlds on paper/monitor, there isn't a lot I can say/show before people freak out.
Act 1 -
In which I answer the question honestly.
"So what did you do this weekend?""Hmm, let's see. First I interviewed a psychopathic serial killer. Then I killed some people after breaking into their houses at, what, 3-4 am - can't remember - anyway, chopped the kid up, sewed'em back together... Ehh. Let's see, what else? Oh! I also managed to go to the airport, get seriously bored, troubled, then board the plane -""... What?""The plane thing? Oh I'm trying, honestly, but my handwriting's crap - can't read a thing..."They leave.
Act 2 -
In which I give myself less credit and answer in half-truths.
"So what did you do this weekend?""Ate, slept, drank and wrote like hell on my computer till it was five in the morning.""That's nice.""Indeed.""Anything else? Did you ever go outside maybe?""I think I did but I can't remember.""Ookay... I'll see you later."
There has to be something wrong when you fail to recall the last you went outside - or, fail to mention it (or forget to and remember it a second too late)... >.> So answering in half-truths has become a habit of mine, at least when I talk in person.
You consider things like what is being talked about and from that you can guess what not to talk about when you're around them or you just know instinctively (randomness is okay! ...in small doses esp. if the person is naturally serious). When asked a question you answer knowing what would be right and wrong and all that stuff. >.>
This over-thinking thing makes me feel awkward because then I have nothing to say that they want to hear. I'm just the strange brooding person sitting far far away laughing to herself because one of her characters said something funny... >.> Now isn't that nice? Lol.
But I'm probably doing that because wherever I go I have my stories in mind - even when I'm in the company of friends and family - people in general - I have my eye out for things like traits of their appearance and/or character or maybe things I might be able to use (like window shopping). When and if I ever get to say... some place I've never been to before, I'd probably take a good look around and take pictures of the places and avenues where such and such character might go - or if one of those places looks like a place in a story. In fact, that's the only reason why I bring a camera along. :) I think taking pictures of people is generally creepy (if you don't know them) and scary (because of my tendency to over-imagine scenarios like their faces changing to something else).
That's the writer talking. If I was...a photographer I wouldn't have a problem with pictures because I would have a different mindset. >.> But if I was still creeped out by faces I'd make it an art to take out their faces or take pictures of flowers instead.
I'd like to spend more time musing and going several directions with these thoughts but wandering isn't going to do me any good. I said that I'd try (again) with ch. 7 of YZ because it keeps coming out wrong (maybe if I change the layout of the text document) and also work on ch. 5 for LMM since there's a part where I'd like to get to.
That is all true (hopefully) because even when I'm blogging, I have to consider the readers and whether my rambling won't offend in some way.
Next time... I might have to define blog. It's been a year or so since I started this blog or started blogs in other sites (which is something I could address as well) and even now I'm still unsure on WTH a blog is.
I believe that was a warning, an implied one for that matter since I go overboard sometimes (sometimes). >.<
Back from the hospital!
So this past week, I've been lamenting over my sore arms.
On Monday was my physical exam - on which I was told I needed a total of five injections. On that day I got three - two on my left arm, one on the right - and for the whole day I was tired (not to mention it was unbearably hot). And today I got the last two and you know what? That HPV shot hurts like hell! What? Do they use a larger needle? D: Anywho, I'm done ranting about that.
On Monday was my physical exam - on which I was told I needed a total of five injections. On that day I got three - two on my left arm, one on the right - and for the whole day I was tired (not to mention it was unbearably hot). And today I got the last two and you know what? That HPV shot hurts like hell! What? Do they use a larger needle? D: Anywho, I'm done ranting about that.
Well that and I'm sleepy. Later I'll check out everbody's posts and reply to comments - all that stuff you know. :)
...That was a pretty useless post.
Creepy angel statues are my friends...
A very image heavy post...and the pictures are big (the ones I took so don't bother clicking if your computer's known to be slow).
Haserot statue somewhere in Ohio I think... Click for original source
I don't know about you but cemeteries and statues fascinate me. If ever I went into a cemetery (which I have) I would take my camera...but I'd rather not. People might think it disrespectful (and it probably is)...
The perspective...
So why do I have pictures up? Well I finally found the usb cord for my camera so here's some more pictures - like my desk >.>
Post-its!!! And miscellaneous junk in the back. And no, Waldo isn't there but that sounds like a good idea.
A close up of some sorts...and my awesome purple/mauve pencil. It's name is Callie. Say hi.
So there you have my desk...now for my desktop -
Haserot statue somewhere in Ohio I think... Click for original source
I don't know about you but cemeteries and statues fascinate me. If ever I went into a cemetery (which I have) I would take my camera...but I'd rather not. People might think it disrespectful (and it probably is)...
The perspective...I've always liked angels too. Just thinking of people who could fly...? Pretty neat stuff. Anyways, I'm taking a break again. Chapter 7 of YZ is really getting to me even if I had it all written out - yes, my writing is semi-terrible but readable (it sounds retarded so don't even bother reading it >.>)
I finally put a shot of my writing up! I've been meaning to do this for awhile.
So why do I have pictures up? Well I finally found the usb cord for my camera so here's some more pictures - like my desk >.>
Post-its!!! And miscellaneous junk in the back. And no, Waldo isn't there but that sounds like a good idea. 
A close up of some sorts...and my awesome purple/mauve pencil. It's name is Callie. Say hi.
I like cats... lol and the mouse has dirt on it...eew *cleans it*
So there you have my desk...now for my desktop -
It's fairly cluttered...lol and chapter 2 of LMM is finished already.
And now my desktop wallpaper (featuring a random doodle and excerpts from the Heaven's Night one-shot) -
I thought it was cool and I was bored. >.>
That...took awhile just posting all this up. >.>
I thought it was cool and I was bored. >.>Now for some LMM stuff because Luna's "Shameless self-advertising" section on her blog inspired me (which has nifty icons that link to her stories - as you can probably see on my sidebar). I took pictures and...you'll see. Again, when I should've been typing ch.7, I focused on LMM. >.> no worries, after this, I'm typing at least a page or two before I sleep...
Hey, it's Haserot again...and my writing. I write like that to scare people. >.>
That...took awhile just posting all this up. >.>
Sunday Scribblings #170 - She
For the sake of something not as long-winded as the last post - It was unexpected but I suddenly wanted to explore some Victorian era stuff. Try and figure out who the narrator is. :)
She was all many hoped to be.
A beauty of fair skin and fair hair, tender caresses and a voice comparable to the lutes of the angels. She too had eyes of the ocean, dark and mysterious and wise and intelligent. She had a strong countenance, poise, and the inbred honor many coveted and desired.
There was a slip in her armor, a little hole - a pinhole if you will - right in the middle of the chest. This hole led to her heart, but even then, there were a series of locks in order to fully access it all. But her heart was a puzzle, designed for only a certain somebody of her choosing. I figured that out because I solved it. But I wasn't the one who was supposed to solve it. It wasn't my right.
In the shade of night, she was sorrowful.
Despite her light appearance in public, she seemed a different person come nighttime and I would follow the fair lady because I was worried - fair ladies shouldn't go out at night. Of course, I wasn't the one she wanted to solve the puzzle so I let her alone to her business, watching wherever she went a good distance away before silently escorting her back to her house. I watched till she drifted to sleep.
Of course I would never gossip about the fair lady, I was too busy being worried. And every night she would go somewhere and return in the wee hours of day. And every time she returned, she had a tremendous look of sorrow and longing. But when the sun rose and the lady was prim and proper, resigned and studious, the looks weren't the least bit visible. Still, as much as that reassured me, it was only temporary. The look come one sunrise, remained, and she would constantly wake sorrowful and teary-eyed. So now I had to bring it to myself to never leave her her out of my sight.
She was a puzzle.
Of the days that followed my horrendous revelation, the pinhole remained but her heart became more confused - the puzzle much more complicated then before. There were new little twists and turns, areas or doorknobs that lead to nowhere in particular, and certain sections of complete darkness where you had to tread further till light was restored. But, even after all that, I was not the one the lady wanted to be the one who solved the puzzle so I resumed as before, keeping my distance, watching and worrying.
It was important for a lady of her status to maintain appearances, and she suddenly began neglecting that. Her social obligations sooner were no more worth to her like a coin to millionaire. I was fearful. The puzzle too grew even more complex, springing little traps meant to keep out anyone else but the person she wanted to solve the puzzle. She kept a blind eye to me. It simply wasn't my right.
In the luminous sun, she was sickly.
There was grand talk about her and she fainted and was carried home. I followed and watched her rest as motionless as a corpse. But the fair lady was alive and well, only weak and needing of much rest. I was surprised as to how the news of her fainting spread like wildfire. Of course, I was angry but I daren't hurt the lady in her current state. Sometimes acts of reckless abandon never helped. Right then the puzzle gained another curious layer that, just like her armor, had that pinhole point of vulnerability.
In the nighttime, the lady stirred, looked at the clock and dressed for the nightly venture. As much as I wanted for her to stay and rest, I daren't interfere. She was pale as a ghost. Storms ravaged her once peaceful oceanic eyes, and her stature was similar to that of an old woman in need of a cane. The shawl she usually wore was askew, and her fair hair too was unkept and wild. There was anger or resignation on her face, but I knew she wanted to burst into tears and hide away. And again, I was not the one to solve the puzzle. It appears as though she had forsaken me all together but I kept on, trailing her in the shade, awaiting her return. It did not happen.
She was dead.
She who many wanted to be,
She who stood straight and tall,
She who looked upon others with fairness,
She who was birthed honorably,
She who was raised nobly,
She was dead.
And she died a woman in the dark, resigned to her fate. A supposed "fallen woman" because of her high birth. And even then, in those last moments, she kept her eyes averted from me - I, the only one who had the key to her suffocating heart. She passed away an ignorant woman.
Still, though she scorned me before death, I watch over the fair lady's grave and tend to it when the need arrives. And as her heart was a mystery to others, the news about her spread and was extinguished as quickly as one's cold breath in winter. Day and night, I tended to her grave. Day and night, I realized how her heart kept it's hold on me. Day and night, I reminded myself that I vowed never to leave her side.
A beauty of fair skin and fair hair, tender caresses and a voice comparable to the lutes of the angels. She too had eyes of the ocean, dark and mysterious and wise and intelligent. She had a strong countenance, poise, and the inbred honor many coveted and desired.
There was a slip in her armor, a little hole - a pinhole if you will - right in the middle of the chest. This hole led to her heart, but even then, there were a series of locks in order to fully access it all. But her heart was a puzzle, designed for only a certain somebody of her choosing. I figured that out because I solved it. But I wasn't the one who was supposed to solve it. It wasn't my right.
In the shade of night, she was sorrowful.
Despite her light appearance in public, she seemed a different person come nighttime and I would follow the fair lady because I was worried - fair ladies shouldn't go out at night. Of course, I wasn't the one she wanted to solve the puzzle so I let her alone to her business, watching wherever she went a good distance away before silently escorting her back to her house. I watched till she drifted to sleep.
Of course I would never gossip about the fair lady, I was too busy being worried. And every night she would go somewhere and return in the wee hours of day. And every time she returned, she had a tremendous look of sorrow and longing. But when the sun rose and the lady was prim and proper, resigned and studious, the looks weren't the least bit visible. Still, as much as that reassured me, it was only temporary. The look come one sunrise, remained, and she would constantly wake sorrowful and teary-eyed. So now I had to bring it to myself to never leave her her out of my sight.
She was a puzzle.
Of the days that followed my horrendous revelation, the pinhole remained but her heart became more confused - the puzzle much more complicated then before. There were new little twists and turns, areas or doorknobs that lead to nowhere in particular, and certain sections of complete darkness where you had to tread further till light was restored. But, even after all that, I was not the one the lady wanted to be the one who solved the puzzle so I resumed as before, keeping my distance, watching and worrying.
It was important for a lady of her status to maintain appearances, and she suddenly began neglecting that. Her social obligations sooner were no more worth to her like a coin to millionaire. I was fearful. The puzzle too grew even more complex, springing little traps meant to keep out anyone else but the person she wanted to solve the puzzle. She kept a blind eye to me. It simply wasn't my right.
In the luminous sun, she was sickly.
There was grand talk about her and she fainted and was carried home. I followed and watched her rest as motionless as a corpse. But the fair lady was alive and well, only weak and needing of much rest. I was surprised as to how the news of her fainting spread like wildfire. Of course, I was angry but I daren't hurt the lady in her current state. Sometimes acts of reckless abandon never helped. Right then the puzzle gained another curious layer that, just like her armor, had that pinhole point of vulnerability.
In the nighttime, the lady stirred, looked at the clock and dressed for the nightly venture. As much as I wanted for her to stay and rest, I daren't interfere. She was pale as a ghost. Storms ravaged her once peaceful oceanic eyes, and her stature was similar to that of an old woman in need of a cane. The shawl she usually wore was askew, and her fair hair too was unkept and wild. There was anger or resignation on her face, but I knew she wanted to burst into tears and hide away. And again, I was not the one to solve the puzzle. It appears as though she had forsaken me all together but I kept on, trailing her in the shade, awaiting her return. It did not happen.
She was dead.
She who many wanted to be,
She who stood straight and tall,
She who looked upon others with fairness,
She who was birthed honorably,
She who was raised nobly,
She was dead.
And she died a woman in the dark, resigned to her fate. A supposed "fallen woman" because of her high birth. And even then, in those last moments, she kept her eyes averted from me - I, the only one who had the key to her suffocating heart. She passed away an ignorant woman.
Still, though she scorned me before death, I watch over the fair lady's grave and tend to it when the need arrives. And as her heart was a mystery to others, the news about her spread and was extinguished as quickly as one's cold breath in winter. Day and night, I tended to her grave. Day and night, I realized how her heart kept it's hold on me. Day and night, I reminded myself that I vowed never to leave her side.
Ever had one of those moments...
...where your muse takes you rollerblading? But you have no idea how to roller blade so your muse lets go of your hand and you crash into a big wet pile of leaves? Though you can't deny that while your muse was with you, you were enjoying the ride. You know...the wind, the breeze, a feeling similar to flight - cloud nine - before you realize that you don't want to move your knees else you'd lose balance and fall.
Well, after that fall, you're exhausted. And if you didn't have knee pads you'd have nicked your knees, or if you skidded across the neighbor's lawn, you'd have grass stains - or both. All in all you're tired and beaten, fumbling with the straps of the confounded contraption on your feet, and you curse for it seems that your muse has ditched you so it wouldn't appear to be the one at fault.
So where does that leave me?
Late last night, my muse gave me those roller blades. It was a fun ride that lasted...hmm...from sometime past midnight to 7 or 8 in the morning. And what I got was chapter seven in longhand and a sense of accomplishment for finally starting and finishing it.
So I closed the notebook and decided to sleep. Didn't work out. I ended up getting something to eat and later drank a gulp or two of sour milk... *shivers* Terrible stuff (and it wasn't even past the expiration yet). So I settled for oatmeal, after washing down the milk with flat coca-cola (it was better than nothing) and returned upstairs where I watched the news and Dr. Katz. Interesting morning? Quite. Later I turned off the television, opened the blinds (it was surprisingly cool and windy today) and read several chapters of Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones before finally sleeping.
...And here's something I should mention, yet I shouldn't, then again I feel I should.
I read aloud with the stereotypical British accent. Actually, whenever I talk (and there were instances at school) that accent slips out sometimes and I'd get these confused stares or laughter or questions. >.> Anywho, reading in that accent was kind of appropriate since...she was a British author...but anyway, it was a fun morning. BUT, I was told to wake up "early" because that day I had to go and get my senior photo taken...which led to my mother and I going around town to eat something, window shop and watch Year One (the one with Jack Black and Michael Cera) before heading home with dinner and a smoothie... Of course, I wasn't totally zombified due to lack of sleep - there was a time where I hadn't slept for thirty to forty somewhat hours and I was as lame as a manila folder taped to a beige wall...
So it has been a full day and I'm going to read in my faux accent and sleep - and then type out the chapter starting tomorrow.
And for some personal thoughts...
Lately I've been yearning to return to my fantasy writer self and have, all during Year Zero, been dabbling with the world of a project I started in middle school - the title of my blog - Ephemeral Wings. I suppose it's my life project because it was the first serious thing I tried to do after writing a horrid fanfic and even more terrible beginner stories... But now, after years of contemplating and putting it off because it just didn't seem original enough.... I started writing a few days ago and found myslef more involved and in love with the story.
And then, with that love churning out more ideas and making me type, I realized that that story would have to have sequels. Then that led me to Year Zero and that it too would have to have a sequel to it too since there are certain characters I want to explore. But I suppose I'll have to ask the readers about that - if they would like a full out sequel or one shots regarding a single character (good thing Wordpress has polls). But that's far off in the future...
Then that led me to the vampire story - but that won't have a sequel, oh no - but it became a longer project when it was first conceived in the dregs of summer 07.
And then there are the other projects under my belt - especially one a friend/fellow author suggested.
As I list everything out it all sounds plain overwhelming and stressful and complicated with all these characters wanting their story told, but, the more I laid out Ephemeral Wings and the more I worked on Year Zero, the more it became apparent to me that some of those characters were merely a deviation of the original characters I planned for my original story. And with all the years of not working on it, those characters changed and made their own paths the more I read and drew, taking in differing influences all the while.
So, in the end, there might not be a lot on my plate after all. I'm learning to choose my battles carefully now because I thrived on what was "in" at the moment.
Here's a visual -
Holy crappleberries Batman! It's a three-slayer cake! nom nom nom?
I am cannibal cake no more! Huzzah! *laughs in a triumphant and dramatic way*
...That cake is pretty creepy but it would be awesome to have one just like it one day.
Well, after that fall, you're exhausted. And if you didn't have knee pads you'd have nicked your knees, or if you skidded across the neighbor's lawn, you'd have grass stains - or both. All in all you're tired and beaten, fumbling with the straps of the confounded contraption on your feet, and you curse for it seems that your muse has ditched you so it wouldn't appear to be the one at fault.
So where does that leave me?
Late last night, my muse gave me those roller blades. It was a fun ride that lasted...hmm...from sometime past midnight to 7 or 8 in the morning. And what I got was chapter seven in longhand and a sense of accomplishment for finally starting and finishing it.
So I closed the notebook and decided to sleep. Didn't work out. I ended up getting something to eat and later drank a gulp or two of sour milk... *shivers* Terrible stuff (and it wasn't even past the expiration yet). So I settled for oatmeal, after washing down the milk with flat coca-cola (it was better than nothing) and returned upstairs where I watched the news and Dr. Katz. Interesting morning? Quite. Later I turned off the television, opened the blinds (it was surprisingly cool and windy today) and read several chapters of Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones before finally sleeping.
...And here's something I should mention, yet I shouldn't, then again I feel I should.
I read aloud with the stereotypical British accent. Actually, whenever I talk (and there were instances at school) that accent slips out sometimes and I'd get these confused stares or laughter or questions. >.> Anywho, reading in that accent was kind of appropriate since...she was a British author...but anyway, it was a fun morning. BUT, I was told to wake up "early" because that day I had to go and get my senior photo taken...which led to my mother and I going around town to eat something, window shop and watch Year One (the one with Jack Black and Michael Cera) before heading home with dinner and a smoothie... Of course, I wasn't totally zombified due to lack of sleep - there was a time where I hadn't slept for thirty to forty somewhat hours and I was as lame as a manila folder taped to a beige wall...
So it has been a full day and I'm going to read in my faux accent and sleep - and then type out the chapter starting tomorrow.
And for some personal thoughts...
Lately I've been yearning to return to my fantasy writer self and have, all during Year Zero, been dabbling with the world of a project I started in middle school - the title of my blog - Ephemeral Wings. I suppose it's my life project because it was the first serious thing I tried to do after writing a horrid fanfic and even more terrible beginner stories... But now, after years of contemplating and putting it off because it just didn't seem original enough.... I started writing a few days ago and found myslef more involved and in love with the story.
And then, with that love churning out more ideas and making me type, I realized that that story would have to have sequels. Then that led me to Year Zero and that it too would have to have a sequel to it too since there are certain characters I want to explore. But I suppose I'll have to ask the readers about that - if they would like a full out sequel or one shots regarding a single character (good thing Wordpress has polls). But that's far off in the future...
Then that led me to the vampire story - but that won't have a sequel, oh no - but it became a longer project when it was first conceived in the dregs of summer 07.
And then there are the other projects under my belt - especially one a friend/fellow author suggested.
As I list everything out it all sounds plain overwhelming and stressful and complicated with all these characters wanting their story told, but, the more I laid out Ephemeral Wings and the more I worked on Year Zero, the more it became apparent to me that some of those characters were merely a deviation of the original characters I planned for my original story. And with all the years of not working on it, those characters changed and made their own paths the more I read and drew, taking in differing influences all the while.
So, in the end, there might not be a lot on my plate after all. I'm learning to choose my battles carefully now because I thrived on what was "in" at the moment.
Here's a visual -
Holy crappleberries Batman! It's a three-slayer cake! nom nom nom?
I am cannibal cake no more! Huzzah! *laughs in a triumphant and dramatic way*
...That cake is pretty creepy but it would be awesome to have one just like it one day.
Laelah 101
All right so on the last post I asked for questions and here are the answers -
From Mmm Bunnies:
What's the timespan for Year Zero?
Technically two months for the main events - it starts in mid-May, goes through the whole of June and ends a couple of weeks in July.
What is your favorite color?
Purple, white, gray, red, blue... Cool colors mostly but purple has been my favorite ever since I started using crayons.
What do you usually wear? (Ex: Jeans & t-shirt, dresses, leotards, etc.)
Comfort is what I think of first both outside and at home. Outside I normally wear jeans (not that I have much of a choice since I live in a male-dominated household - has six step-brothers, seven if you count the adopted one who lives abroad, and two step-sisters who also live abroad) and loos shirts or tank-tops with a jacket/sweater. I do like girly clothes and would like to wear skirts (the long kind since it's tedious when you have to buy pants) or dresses so I settle for camisoles. And on my good days out or to school I wear blouses with the sleeves tucked to the elbow.
Where do you find your user avatar/icon/thingies?
Here mostly and sometimes here. Or I crop pictures - but that takes a lot of time and I'm lazy.
Random-ass questions pulled of the internet:
When are you most alert? Morning or night?
Nighttime. I'm fairly nocturnal come summertime. Plus, I like the eerie silence sometimes - though creepy - it's soothing. plus, people are less likely to bother you about anything... Though you have to watch out for those dark hallways though...
Do you prefer to be inside or outside?
Depends. If it's hot, I'll stay inside. If it suddenly began to snow or rained, I'll go out for a walk or two around the neighborhood. I don't get out much so I prefer inside naturally. Now, if it wasn't such a hassle to go outside I would go out more frequently (not that there's much to see).
At what temperature are you most comfortable? When you are hot, cold, warm?
Warm. But it depends too, especially if it's winter you'd want to be warmer. If it's hot you'd want it to be cold. :| I'm indecisive and it's become habit to assess both situations.
Do you sleep with your closet doors open or closed?
Closed... Don't want things to come out there you know? >.>
Do you take the shampoos and conditioner bottles from hotel?
...No. But my mom's been known to do that. I think there's a bag full of them tucked somewhere...
Do you like to use post-it notes?
I do. In fact I've been using sticky notes to help with outlines for the chapters and such. The bright colors help me focus on that needs to be done.
Would you rather be attacked by a big bear or a swarm of a bees?
A bear. A big rolling bear. I can't stand bees or insects or anything with more legs than necessary. Hell, bees fly too. Who would avenge me after they fly away? Actually, how?!
Do you always smile for pictures?
With braces? No. But it's getting easier. I actually want to smile and laugh in public without covering my mouth. >.>
What is your biggest pet peeve?
Probably people slamming doors/cabinets/drawers of any kind. Even moreso than my dislike for annoying pushovers...
Do you ever count your steps when you walk?
I've tried and got distracted, then tried again. I ended up forgetting the number I left off on when I turned around to see the other end of the street.
Do you ever dance even if there's no music playing?
If I'm in a good mood...I might do that but stop immediately because I know how silly I look.
Do you chew your pens and pencils?
Nope. That's another pet peeve. You let someone borrow your pen/pencil and then they return it with bite marks... I let them keep it. I'm not really a germaphobe. I just don't like having something that was once in someones mouth or gnashing at it with their teeth - my imagination tends to overreact about these kinds of things.
What is your Song of the week?
The Used cover for Burning Down the House by Talking Heads. The original sounds so...weird. Loved it after watching Transformers 2 with friends... It was an all right movie. >.>
Do you still watch cartoons?
Heck. Yes. But not so frequently atm.
What movies could you watch over and over and still love?
Silent Hill, Spirited Away, Howl's Moving Castle...a lot if I had the time.
Can you change the oil on a car?
I can try. I've seen my dad enough to not try it for myself.
Ever gotten a speeding ticket?
I don't own a car so no.
Ran out of gas?
By being literally exhausted that you can't move anymore - then yes.
Favorite kind of sandwich?
A friend made me try this - it was just lettuce, cheese, ham, in halves of a croissant. Good stuff.
What is your usual bedtime?
...Lately, sometime deep in the morning hours.
Are you lazy?
Must that really be answered? >.>
Afraid of heights?
Used to and now I can enjoy rollercoasters! Woo! *half-hearted smile* Another pet peeve: rollercoaster pictures. You're caught up in the moment and your screaming face is caught on a camera and is shown at the end of the ride... What is riding a rollercoaster supposed to be glamorous?
Sing in the car?
I have.
Dance in the shower?
...Tried.
Dance in the car?
Kind of nicked my elbow that time and I suddenly felt dizzy.
Occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid?
A florist. Then I wanted to be a psychiatrist before I changed to psychologist. Then an artist for my writer friend. And then I wanted to be a writer. I changed again but this time to an Illustrator (but that doesn't seem to be working out). And now I'm back to just writing. It's too stressful to think about what you're going to be doing in the future.
Do you believe in ghosts?
I don't, yet I do. Either way, anything dead or anything we perceive as dead is creepy.
Ever have a Deja-vu feeling?
Too many to count.
Ever have a Deja-vu feeling?
Holy... YES. >:-|
Take a vitamin daily?
Yep.
Wear slippers?
Absolutely. You try wearing fuzzy socks (this was during winter) and walking on a wooden floor. It almost never ends well.
First concert?
A Britney Spears one with my cousin who didn't want to go alone. It was fun and it was a school night too. For the rest of that week I was so exhausted that I couldn't hold a pencil right.
Ever won a spelling bee?
In the fifth grade... They tried to trick me with a silent letter I think. I was so nervous.
Have you ever cried because you were so happy?
Plenty of times. I also cry when I laugh really hard. It gets worse when they join in because I won't be able to stop laughing!
Who would you like to see in concert?
The Used, Muse or Nine Inch Nails... That'd be awesome.
Can you swim well?
Just barely. I can float as long as I don't panic... *panics then drowns* I stay at the shallow end only because I have issues with deep water.
Are you patient?
Yes but I snap at times and it isn't pretty.
Do you want to get married?
Not sure yet.
Do you have kids?
o.o No.
Do you want kids?
>.>'' Still undecided...
Do you miss anyone right now?
Now? I can't really say no so sure why not? I miss a lot of things.
Wee! A Personality Test!
Apparently my personality type is:
Quiet, reflective and idealistic. Interested in serving humanity. Well-developed value system, which they strive to live in accordance with. Extremely loyal. Adaptable and laid-back unless a strongly-held value is threatened. Usually talented writers. Mentally quick and able to see possibilities. Interested in understanding and helping people.
Some careers that would fit me are:
Writers, artists, counselors, social workers, English teachers, fine arts teachers, child care workers, clergy, missionaries, psychologists, psychiatrists, scientists, political activists, editors, education consultants, journalists, religious educators, social scientists.
I'm more:
Introverted, Intuitive, Feeling and Perceiving.
How strange that that personality test got me spot on. o.o Okay, that was a lengthy post... Will probably post something else soon but now, sleep. *dozes on the keyboard*
From Mmm Bunnies:
What's the timespan for Year Zero?
Technically two months for the main events - it starts in mid-May, goes through the whole of June and ends a couple of weeks in July.
What is your favorite color?
Purple, white, gray, red, blue... Cool colors mostly but purple has been my favorite ever since I started using crayons.
What do you usually wear? (Ex: Jeans & t-shirt, dresses, leotards, etc.)
Comfort is what I think of first both outside and at home. Outside I normally wear jeans (not that I have much of a choice since I live in a male-dominated household - has six step-brothers, seven if you count the adopted one who lives abroad, and two step-sisters who also live abroad) and loos shirts or tank-tops with a jacket/sweater. I do like girly clothes and would like to wear skirts (the long kind since it's tedious when you have to buy pants) or dresses so I settle for camisoles. And on my good days out or to school I wear blouses with the sleeves tucked to the elbow.
Where do you find your user avatar/icon/thingies?
Here mostly and sometimes here. Or I crop pictures - but that takes a lot of time and I'm lazy.
Random-ass questions pulled of the internet:
When are you most alert? Morning or night?
Nighttime. I'm fairly nocturnal come summertime. Plus, I like the eerie silence sometimes - though creepy - it's soothing. plus, people are less likely to bother you about anything... Though you have to watch out for those dark hallways though...
Do you prefer to be inside or outside?
Depends. If it's hot, I'll stay inside. If it suddenly began to snow or rained, I'll go out for a walk or two around the neighborhood. I don't get out much so I prefer inside naturally. Now, if it wasn't such a hassle to go outside I would go out more frequently (not that there's much to see).
At what temperature are you most comfortable? When you are hot, cold, warm?
Warm. But it depends too, especially if it's winter you'd want to be warmer. If it's hot you'd want it to be cold. :| I'm indecisive and it's become habit to assess both situations.
Do you sleep with your closet doors open or closed?
Closed... Don't want things to come out there you know? >.>
Do you take the shampoos and conditioner bottles from hotel?
...No. But my mom's been known to do that. I think there's a bag full of them tucked somewhere...
Do you like to use post-it notes?
I do. In fact I've been using sticky notes to help with outlines for the chapters and such. The bright colors help me focus on that needs to be done.
Would you rather be attacked by a big bear or a swarm of a bees?
A bear. A big rolling bear. I can't stand bees or insects or anything with more legs than necessary. Hell, bees fly too. Who would avenge me after they fly away? Actually, how?!
Do you always smile for pictures?
With braces? No. But it's getting easier. I actually want to smile and laugh in public without covering my mouth. >.>
What is your biggest pet peeve?
Probably people slamming doors/cabinets/drawers of any kind. Even moreso than my dislike for annoying pushovers...
Do you ever count your steps when you walk?
I've tried and got distracted, then tried again. I ended up forgetting the number I left off on when I turned around to see the other end of the street.
Do you ever dance even if there's no music playing?
If I'm in a good mood...I might do that but stop immediately because I know how silly I look.
Do you chew your pens and pencils?
Nope. That's another pet peeve. You let someone borrow your pen/pencil and then they return it with bite marks... I let them keep it. I'm not really a germaphobe. I just don't like having something that was once in someones mouth or gnashing at it with their teeth - my imagination tends to overreact about these kinds of things.
What is your Song of the week?
The Used cover for Burning Down the House by Talking Heads. The original sounds so...weird. Loved it after watching Transformers 2 with friends... It was an all right movie. >.>
Do you still watch cartoons?
Heck. Yes. But not so frequently atm.
What movies could you watch over and over and still love?
Silent Hill, Spirited Away, Howl's Moving Castle...a lot if I had the time.
Can you change the oil on a car?
I can try. I've seen my dad enough to not try it for myself.
Ever gotten a speeding ticket?
I don't own a car so no.
Ran out of gas?
By being literally exhausted that you can't move anymore - then yes.
Favorite kind of sandwich?
A friend made me try this - it was just lettuce, cheese, ham, in halves of a croissant. Good stuff.
What is your usual bedtime?
...Lately, sometime deep in the morning hours.
Are you lazy?
Must that really be answered? >.>
Afraid of heights?
Used to and now I can enjoy rollercoasters! Woo! *half-hearted smile* Another pet peeve: rollercoaster pictures. You're caught up in the moment and your screaming face is caught on a camera and is shown at the end of the ride... What is riding a rollercoaster supposed to be glamorous?
Sing in the car?
I have.
Dance in the shower?
...Tried.
Dance in the car?
Kind of nicked my elbow that time and I suddenly felt dizzy.
Occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid?
A florist. Then I wanted to be a psychiatrist before I changed to psychologist. Then an artist for my writer friend. And then I wanted to be a writer. I changed again but this time to an Illustrator (but that doesn't seem to be working out). And now I'm back to just writing. It's too stressful to think about what you're going to be doing in the future.
Do you believe in ghosts?
I don't, yet I do. Either way, anything dead or anything we perceive as dead is creepy.
Ever have a Deja-vu feeling?
Too many to count.
Ever have a Deja-vu feeling?
Holy... YES. >:-|
Take a vitamin daily?
Yep.
Wear slippers?
Absolutely. You try wearing fuzzy socks (this was during winter) and walking on a wooden floor. It almost never ends well.
First concert?
A Britney Spears one with my cousin who didn't want to go alone. It was fun and it was a school night too. For the rest of that week I was so exhausted that I couldn't hold a pencil right.
Ever won a spelling bee?
In the fifth grade... They tried to trick me with a silent letter I think. I was so nervous.
Have you ever cried because you were so happy?
Plenty of times. I also cry when I laugh really hard. It gets worse when they join in because I won't be able to stop laughing!
Who would you like to see in concert?
The Used, Muse or Nine Inch Nails... That'd be awesome.
Can you swim well?
Just barely. I can float as long as I don't panic... *panics then drowns* I stay at the shallow end only because I have issues with deep water.
Are you patient?
Yes but I snap at times and it isn't pretty.
Do you want to get married?
Not sure yet.
Do you have kids?
o.o No.
Do you want kids?
>.>'' Still undecided...
Do you miss anyone right now?
Now? I can't really say no so sure why not? I miss a lot of things.
Wee! A Personality Test!
Apparently my personality type is:
Quiet, reflective and idealistic. Interested in serving humanity. Well-developed value system, which they strive to live in accordance with. Extremely loyal. Adaptable and laid-back unless a strongly-held value is threatened. Usually talented writers. Mentally quick and able to see possibilities. Interested in understanding and helping people.
Some careers that would fit me are:
Writers, artists, counselors, social workers, English teachers, fine arts teachers, child care workers, clergy, missionaries, psychologists, psychiatrists, scientists, political activists, editors, education consultants, journalists, religious educators, social scientists.
I'm more:
Introverted, Intuitive, Feeling and Perceiving.
How strange that that personality test got me spot on. o.o Okay, that was a lengthy post... Will probably post something else soon but now, sleep. *dozes on the keyboard*