it was just how you looked in the light

None of my time today was used for playing Minecraft, so I am quite content. ;w; As much as I love the game, it really is difficult for me to play it even for just a bit because I always seem to get stuck on it and spend every spare minute on it for the next week. When my gameplay has lulls, though, I always return with the urge to make a new save file, and I don't like that. I'd rather just pick up where I left off, and it's such a shame when I don't because there's so many lovely projects waiting for me. D: For example, I presently haven't bothered with my creative mode save at all, but I was building Wammy's and wanted to build my house and some murals and maybe even dabble in three-dimensional sculptures. I think I was simply discouraged by my efforts with Wammy's, though, since I made the building so /big/ and also didn't have much of a clear design other than where I wanted the bedrooms to be. It would be gorgeous if I had the motivation to finish it and figure out how to make it more than just an unseemly rectangle. Despite not playing Minecraft, though, I certainly had my procrastinations. I skipped Japanese and about an hour of cleaning tonight for the purpose of perusing articles on Springhole, the website manned by the person who made the really long and detailed Mary Sue test. The website left me wondering at the identity of the writer—or writers?—responsible for the site. The webmaster is so knowledgable and wise at hir craft but also very familiar with trends in both language and media. The writing style makes me want to label the admin as a female writer in her late teens, but the wisdom present offers me the image of a well-built, middle-aged brunet in baggy t-shirts. The reading itself was informative and productive, definitely something beneficial to me as a writer, for certain, despite the time not being right.  Something additional I started pondering as a result of exploring the website was my own status as a writer. The writer behind the website is so proficient that ze has claimed my admiration, and although I feel proficient myself, I know there's still a ton of things I have to learn. One of my inadequacies, I feel, is a lack of knowledge on human psychology. I'm certainly learning, but I feel I know nowhere near enough. Similarly, I want to gain more skill at creating characters with a variety of philosophies and motivations, which right now is hard for me because I have such a limited field of experience. I particularly want to grain greater and more detailed objectivity when describing the structures and expressions of a character's visage. I want to craft masterful plots and brilliant settings; I want to expand my vocabulary; I want more practice with baring my soul (without losing any aspect of control /entirely/). Most of all, though, I want to gain the will to write, to spend time with words as if they were a video game, something in which I could voluntarily be immersed for hours. It's fantastic to know in what ways I wish to improve or to learn new things about the craft, but that's not going to help me much if I never bother to actually put the theories into practice. The worst part is that I doubt I ever really possessed such an affinity to writing at all. I often talk about a period a few years ago, when I was within the first three years of my craft and did willingly spend a lot of time writing, enough to finish the first drafts of four novels and compose numerous other pieces. Every single one of them was poor in quality, but I still relish those years for my constant time spent with the craft. Then the technology pervaded my life, however. I purchased an iPod Touch and MacBook Pro; my parents purchased a wifi router. My access to the internet because constant, and the time I spent writing dwindled away, transforming into time spent on Twig and in other places, horribly unproductive yet immensely tempting curses of websites such as Tumblr, mylifeisaverage, and Facebook. Ever since then, the will to write has become more of a myth to me than anything else, and I constantly wonder if I really ever wrote because I wanted to do or whether it was just an irrelevant passtime for me, something with which I occupied myself only because no friends or internet privileges were available. Honestly, though, I adore writing, I adore being a writer, and I adore even just the act of identifying as a writer. It's /worth/ it to me, so I'm trying to recreate an environment in which more of my time is left free to the craft. Five through seven-thirty each morning are my designated writing hours; to ensure I wake up early enough and waste minimal time, my access to Facebook and Tumblr is restricted between eleven PM and seven-thirty AM, the wifi router blocks me between eleven fifty-five PM and five AM, and my computer automatically sleeps at one AM. The problem is that it's not enough. I want to set the times back an hour earlier, stop spending time on the internet outside its scheduled blocks, and be more focused and efficient with my activities in general. I don't even know if it'll help, but once I finish cleaning the house and don't have anything so pressing to do with my time, maybe I'll start scheduling more time for writing. Maybe I'll build habits of working on it. Maybe I'll stay committed for long enough to do something with Dragon Soul and make it worth publishing. I don't know what I'll do, but if I do succeed in spending more time writing, then I know I'll be a lot prouder with myself. It'll be worth it. I just have to actually try.

i could write it better than you ever felt it

I'm using this fantastic note program, Evernote. Initially I was only using it as a 'language log' because Koichi encouraged all his readers to make a little journal for it to track what they've learned and how far they've come and the like. But I started using it as a normal diary and to write down my dreams too and to write any other random things I want to save, too, because it's really fantastic and well-organized. o.o You can search the content of all your notes, and you can also add tags and divide documents into different categories. It's got the functionality of a basic word-processing program, and everything can be synced online so I can easily access it on my iPod too should I ever want to, and best of all, I can actually change the date on which I made notes. I appreciate that so so much, and since that's possible I've made a personal project of taking my old diary entries and blogs and sticking them in here because it seems like it'd be really useful to see all my journally things in one organized place like this.

Let me just say: I love this so fucking much.

It's so uninteresting in retrospect, though. It's one of those things I'd really want to blab about to my friends but would also reconsider because it's not as exciting as my feelings seem to indicate. 

But it's still exciting for me, so I'm just going to be happy in that. Really, it's also completely lovely just to reread all these old things and to realize how well I remember them. Right now I'm gong through a nearly average-sized notebook which I began using in early 2007 as a diary, though I ended using it as my writing notebook later and carried it around in my purse. And it gives the journal this really lovely, worn texture and appearance. Just look.

(please ignore that these pictures are mirrored; that is not the point)

Mon dieu, I love it. Reading it is just hilarious, though, because I wrote about the most asinine subjects as if they were the most important things in the world, and with such a sense of duty. I attempted to record so many irrelevant different things every single day—most commonly the weather and just what I did in the few video games I frequented back then. It's really intriguing, though. This was from my 'naive phase' where I didn't see people for who they were but rather for what we did together; I was friends with people and liked them because I hung out with them a lot and because we did fun things together, rather than liking them because of what gorgeous people they were or because of how much they meant to me. They didn't mean much to me. I left that phase in early 2010. 

But it's just, such a lovely log of an earlier time. I'd like to get back into daily journaling because in five yeras, granted there's no apocalypse, I'm sure I'd really love to be able to easily revisit this time period. 

Also, I had an ant farm. I'd forgotten all about this. I made it out of a little clear, rectangular container and a bunch of sand, and essentially I just captured ants and dumped them in, and then I went outside every day to see what the tunnels were like. It was fantastic. Omg. I mean, it probably wasn't all that exciting to me back then, or maybe it was, but I'm just really really delighted to know about this.

I think the other intriguing part about this journal so far has been the general lack of emotional conflict. The private journaling I do now is mostly spurred on by me being angry or sad over something, so when I go back and reread all this, I won't hear about how much time I spent on Tumblr or how much I loved MelloxMatt or how much I felt I was improving in writing and Japanese or how frustrating all this dental shit makes playing the trumpet or talking. Instead I'll read about how I finally decided to stop being frustrated with a particular friend of mine and just move on or about how pissed I was by so and so doing such and such, and I suppose it's not bad because I'd rather have records of anything at all than not, but it'd probably a lot nicer if I communicated to my journals with the emotional distance I did in 2007. I don't really want to piss myself off in the future just by remembering past conflicts. XD 

But I want to write more, period. Thanks to being off the internet this week, I managed to read a lot and get a lot accomplished writing-wise, and I like having the time. I don't know how to deal with it, though. I can certainly make attempts to read and write more overall, but I'm not willing to swear off the internet permanently. Hum. Sorting out my priorities would be nice, though. Maybe this can help prompt me to spend less time playing apps on my iPod or diligently trying to read through my entire dashboard on Tumblr so I can spend time working more on Shikata ga Nai or Fragmented or on just writing.

Writing is beautiful. Writing is important. Writing is a fantastic and magnificent journey of the mind and with every word you write, a series of little lines take on great meaning and allow you to impress the contents of your mind upon others'. 

It's brilliancy, and that's about all I have to say.

/perfection/

Omg omg Mello gave me a holy inscription
He's this roleplay account on Tumblr and and he gave me my life story in songs okay okay

Opening Credits:  Monochrome no kiss (Kuroshitsuji)

Waking Up: Born this way (Lady Gaga)

First Day At School: Let your soul be your pilot (Matthew Morrison)

Falling In Love: Toxic (Local H)

Fight Song: Perfect (Hedley)

Breaking Up:  Someone like you (Adele)

Life’s OK: Big Girls Don’t Cry (Fergie)

Getting Back Together: Glad you came (The Wanted)

Wedding:  Im yours (Jason Mraz)

Birth of Child: You’ll be in my heart (Phil Collins)

Final Battle: Hero (Enrique Iglesias) Seriously, this just made me cry :’(

Death Scene: Bring me to Life (Evanescence)

Funeral Song: Our last Summer (ABBA)

End Credits: Im alive (Becca)

And so I've just been listening through it happily. I only just got to the end, and DO YOU KNOW WHAT I REALIZED?!
Monochrome no Kiss is Kuroshitsuji's opening theme.
I'm Alive is the ending theme.
OMG.
DUDE.
MY LIFE IS THE BEST LIFE EVER
I LOVE IT ;u;

Also I knew eight of these songs.
Eight.
I'm glad Mello and I have similar tastes.
I like this Mello.

Bring Me to Life is also thrillingly ironic.

You'll Be In My Heart makes no sense, but I love it.

Just okay. I'm happy. I'm going to flaunt this. And I'll come back and remember it someday.

THAT'S ALL.

And because I love Mello so much, here's the link to his blog.

http://k33hl.tumblr.com/

Scribblescribblescribble

Ohai :D

I don't have any original content. I just wanted to post some articles from this writing newsletter thing that gets emailed to me because I found them relevant and useful.

2) Organizing: Tactics of the Winning Novelist

In my November column, I talked about the threeessential skills you need if you want to succeed in thewriting business -- Vision, Strategy, and Tactics.
In December, I discussed Vision and gave you somesimple tips to help you define the Vision for yourcareer and for each book.
In January, we tackled Strategy and I gave you a longterm strategic plan for managing your writing business.
This month, let's talk Tactics.
Tactics are the little things, the specific actions youtake to build your skills as a novelist and then towrite your novel.
Let's be clear that those are separate tasks: buildingyour skills and writing a novel. An analogy might help:

Being a novelist is a lot like being a marathon runner.Before you can actually RUN a marathon, you need tofirst TRAIN for it. Typically, that takes a long time-- months of training to build the fitness andendurance to run an entire marathon.
But once you've reached that level, you can run moremarathons with ease.
Of course, you'll continue to train between races, butnow your training will be aimed at helping you runBETTER, rather than merely helping you FINISH.

In the same way, before you can write a novel, you needto develop your skills as a fiction writer.
But once you've got the skills to write one novel, youcan write as many as you want with ease.
You'll always be improving your skills, but afteryou've written your first novel, you'll be working towrite BETTER, not merely to FINISH.

I've identified five tactics you can use to build yourskills as a novelist to the point where you're ready towrite your first one.
These tactics are simple. In fact, they're "obvious." Success in life can be as simple as doing the obvious.You'd be amazed how many writers ignore all these tactics.You'd be amazed how fast you improve, once you startdoing all five.
Here they are:

Tactic #1: Write on a consistent schedule.
Writing a novel is a marathon. A sprint here and a dashthere won't get you to the finish line. Writingconsistently for weeks and months WILL get you there.
Decide how many hours per week you can dedicate towriting. If you're a beginner, this might be only oneor two. I recommend that beginners make it a goal toget up to five hours per week by the end of the firstyear of writing.
Your writing schedule is for WRITING. Not for researchof your story world. Not for studying how to write. Notfor reading magazines about writing. Not for readingblogs or hanging out on e-mail loops for writers. Notfor going to writing conferences.
All of those are fine things, but they aren't WRITING.
You get better at running by running. You get better atwriting by writing.

Tactic #2: Keep a log of your writing time and wordcount.
This sounds too simple (or possibly too anal) forwords. It isn't.
Writing fiction is a JOB, at least for professionalnovelists. Someday, you'll be working with a publisherwho has a publication schedule mapped out for two yearsin advance. You'll sign a contract with that publisherto deliver X amount of words on a particular date.
That date is not a fantasy. That date is reality. Ifyou miss that date, it costs your publisher money. Yes,they build in some slack in the schedule. No, you don'tever want to use any of it. Not one minute. Yourpublishers will love you if they know they can trustyou to meet your deadlines.
But you can't sign a contract to deliver X words on aparticular date unless you know how fast you can write.You need to know how many words of output you cancreate in each hour of working time.
Good runners know what pace they can run each mile.
Professional writers know what pace they can write.
If you want to be a professional writer someday, thenstart acting like one today. 

Tactic #3: Give yourself a weekly quota.
You can't do this until you've done #1 and #2 above. Inorder to create a meaningful quota, you have to knowhow many hours you can write each week, and you have toknow how many words you can produce each hour. (Theydon't have to be GOOD words. Goodness comes later.)
Virtually all the successful writers I know assignthemselves a quota of some sort for creating theirfirst draft. While some writers use a daily quota andsome use a monthly quota, most of them seem to set aweekly word count. I recommend weekly.
Your quota will be useless unless you actually meet it.Assign yourself a penalty for failing to reach yourquota. Find an accountability partner who can checkthat you hit your quota and can make you pay thepenalty if you fail.
Important: Make your quota possible. Never miss it.

Tactic #4: Find a critique group or critique buddy.
Most writers believe their work is either unutterablybrilliant or wretchedly awful.
Generally, they're wrong on both counts. All writersare delusional. That's part of the job description.
There is only one way to know whether your work is anygood or not.
You need somebody else to read your work and tell you.
You need a critique of your work regularly. I recommendthat you get a critique monthly. Find one or morepeople with all of these qualities: * They understand fiction* They will be honest * They will be kind
If your critiquers lack any of these, then drop themlike a burning porcupine because they're useless to you.

Tactic #5: Constantly study the craft of fiction.
It is not your critiquers' problem to tell you HOW towrite better. Their job is to point out what you'redoing well and what you're doing poorly.
Your job is to find ways to improve your strong pointsso they're world-class (your strong points will makeeditors say yes someday).
Your job is also to find ways to improve your weakpoints so they're at least adequate (your weak pointswill make editors say no right now).
Generally, critiquers don't actually know how to teachyou how to improve your craft. They may think they do,but they usually don't. Skill in critiquing is not thesame as skill in teaching.
You have plenty of sources for teaching you the craft:* Books* Magazines and e-zines* Classes* Conferences* Recorded lectures* Mentors
When you know specifically what you want to improve,find some source of teaching on that exact topic andstudy it. Then apply what you learned to your writingand get critiqued again to see if you got it. Don'tquit studying until you get it.

That's it. Five tactics that will turn a talentedbeginner into a professional writer, if you do themconsistently for the rest of your life.
To summarize, "Write, write, write! Get critiqued.Study. Repeat forever."
Simple? Yes.
Easy? No.
That's why there are many more talented beginners thanprofessional writers.


______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

3) Creating: Should You Answer That Question?

In writing fiction, you'll constantly be raisingquestions in your reader's mind. Those questions createcuriosity and it's up to you to decide whether and whento satisfy that curiosity.
On the one hand, nothing kills mystique quicker thaninstantly answering every possible question that mightarise. Curiosity keeps the pages turning.
On the other hand, nothing is more frustrating thantrying to read a story where you lack essential contextto understand what's going on, especially when you feelthat the author is intentionally holding back criticalinformation for no good reason.

What you're looking for is balance.
There are really two kinds of questions that you canraise: implicit and explicit questions.
An implicit question arises when the reader lackscontext to understand something -- a foreign word or afamily tradition or a character's backstory.
An explicit question is a question that one characterasks another.

The meta-question you should always be asking yourselfabout implicit and explicit questions is this: "ShouldI answer that question?"
Sometimes you will; sometimes you won't. How do youknow when you should and when you shouldn't?
There aren't any hard rules here, but I usually asksome related questions:
* Is the reader going to be hopelessly confused unlessshe gets an answer to the question? Generally,curiosity is good, but confusion that leads to readerfrustration is bad.
* Is the story pace going to suffer if I take time toanswer this question? During high-action parts of thestory, you really don't want to take time out toexplain things. Those explanations can usually wait atleast a few pages until you reach a low-action part ofthe story.

Let's look at some examples from the great novel, THECHOSEN, by Chaim Potok.
In THE CHOSEN, the two lead characters meet in chapter1. They're fifteen year old Jewish boys, playing onrival baseball teams in 1944 Brooklyn.
Our hero, Reuven Malter, is playing second base, andhis nemesis, Danny Saunders, hits a double. One of thefirst things Danny says to Reuven is this:
"I told my team we're going to kill you apikorsim thisafternoon."
If you're not Jewish, you may be wondering what"apikorsim" are.
Potok doesn't tell you right away. It's clear from thecontext that the word is an insult. Potok doesn't breakthe pace of the story to explain any more.
But the word hangs there in the reader's mind. It getsrepeated a few more times during the action part of thescene.
Five pages later, there's a lull in the action. Potoknow explains that an apikoros originally meant aninfidel. However, Hasidic Jews like Danny Saunders alsouse the term even for observant Jews who are somewhatmore assimilated into American culture.
For Danny Saunders, Reuven Malter is an apikoros whowill burn in hell.
Potok takes half a page to explain all this.
It's important to get it right, because Reuven andDanny are going to become friends, and Reuven's statusas a non-Hasidic apikoros will be a major obstacle totheir friendship.
Yet it's not so important that Potok felt it necessaryto explain it in the heat of a baseball game. The exactdefinition of the word "apikoros" was an implicitquestion that could stew for a few pages before Potoktook the time to explain it.

Now let's look at an explicit question a little fartheron in the same book.
Late in the game, Reuven takes the pitcher's mound forthe final inning of the game. Danny Saunders comes tobat and hits a wicked curve incredibly hard right atReuven. The ball shatters Reuven's glasses and smashesinto his forehead.
Reuven is rushed to the hospital with a massiveheadache and a piercing pain in his left eye. There, hepasses out. The next day, he regains consciousness andfinds that he has a big bandage over his left eye. Hisfather comes to visit.
Reuven has noticed that the nurse hasn't told himanything about his eye. So he asks his father straightout, "Is it all right?"
That's an explicit question that his father couldanswer immediately. But he doesn't.
Reuven has not yet grasped how serious the situationis. Neither has the reader. Reuven doesn't know he hada splinter of glass in his eye. He doesn't know that abig-shot eye surgeon performed an operation on his eyeto remove the splinter. He has no idea what danger he'sstill in.
If Reuven's father answers the question right away,that would kill the tension before Reuven or the readereven know that there is any tension.
So Reuven's father equivocates. He's not a good liarand Reuven presses him with more questions and more.
Slowly, over a page and a half, the truth emerges. Thesplinter. The surgeon. The operation. The fact that thepupil of the eye was sliced and now has to heal. Thefact that it might scar as it heals. The strongpossibility that Reuven might never see again out ofthat eye.
By the end of the scene, Reuven is in a panic and hehates Danny Saunders more than he's ever hated anybodyin his life.
Danny wanted to kill him. Danny may very well haveblinded him in one eye. Danny is a despicable humanbeing.
Hate takes time to build, and Potok builds it slowly bydragging out the answer to Reuven's question.


Sometimes an explicit question arises that shouldn't beanswered until as late as possible. Let's look at anexample from the same book.
While Reuven is convalescing in the hospital, Dannycomes to apologize. Furious, Reuven sends him away. ButDanny is persistent and he returns the next day toapologize again.
It takes some time, but slowly Reuven begins tounderstand Danny a little. Danny's father, Reb Saundersis a famous rebbe, leader of a Hasidic congregation.Danny is destined to be a rebbe someday, but that's thelast thing he wants.
Danny is a once-in-a-generation genius and his restlessmind chafes at the restrictions his father puts on him.Danny is trapped in a life he would never have chosen. 
Danny has another problem, which he gradually revealsto Reuven.
Danny's father never talks to him. Except when they'restudying Torah together, Reb Saunders never says aword to his son.
Reuven asks Danny why.
Because this question drives the entire story,revealing the answer would be the same thing as endingthe book, so the answer MUST be delayed until the veryend.
The reader desperately wants to know the answer, butthe viewpoint character, Reuven, doesn't know theanswer, and neither does Danny.
The reader knows she'll have to wait until Reb Saundersreveals it, in his own way, on his own schedule.
This works because Reb Saunders is not a viewpointcharacter. Since he's the only person who knows theanswer, there's no problem in concealing it.
However, it wouldn't work if Reb Saunders were aviewpoint character. When a viewpoint character holdsback a secret from the reader, it feels artificial andannoying, and the reader feels frustrated, cheated bythe author.

Your novel will raise all sorts of questions in yourreader's mind, some simple, some complex. Someimplicit, some explicit.
It's up to you to figure out if and when to answerthese questions.
Don't be too quick to answer them. But don't be tooslow, either. Part of the art of writing fiction isdeciding exactly how and when to reveal the answers.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

This article is reprinted by permission of the author.
Award-winning novelist Randy Ingermanson, "theSnowflake Guy," publishes the Advanced Fiction WritingE-zine, with more than 29,000 readers, every month. Ifyou want to learn the craft and marketing of fiction,AND make your writing more valuable to editors, ANDhave FUN doing it, visithttp://www.AdvancedFictionWriting.com.
Download your free Special Report on Tiger Marketingand get a free 5-Day Course in How To Publish a Novel. 

just sweet and epiphany, i am a wing, i'm a prayer

I love those moments where I know I should be nervous, and I anticipate the whole time that my anxiety will send me into bouts of shaking and garbled speech that ultimately lead to the demise of my chances, but then when I find myself in the midst of the moment I realize the emotions forgot to show up, leaving me with a too-good-to-be-true sense of calm and a the notion that maybe I can actually do this quivering within my mind.

But then there's times where they tell me for no good reason that I can't wear those goggles, even around my neck, while they take my license photo. So in the end my plan to have a permanent picture of me dressed as Matt imprinted onto this glossy card of privilege doesn't work because the only identifying feature is the fluffy collar below my chin, which is better than nothing, but a lot more inadequate than it could be.

Sometimes, though, I'm lucky enough to be promised a 'celebration' by my mum. Celebrating with her usually consists of getting fast food. So even though I'm not always hungry, I can at least cash a rain check in later that night and eat my number eight from BurgerKing in happiness, wearing ribbed jeans and a glossy belt and wishing I had a striped shirt, but knowing it needs to be washed and figuring that it doesn't matter since all I really wanted to show my band friends was what I did to my jeans, anyway.

There's also times when I don't even know why I'm talking oddly. Maybe I think it's clever of me, but maybe I also feel that I'm trying to hard and should just stop—it's sort of fun though, so I can just grin to myself and decide it won't matter in the end. Writing never was supposed to be about pleasing everyone, anyway, and I finally get to start realizing that again; everything is more peaceful when I'm not just laying out carefully placed words, meticulously adjusting the angles and arrangements. Sometimes that approach works, but there's times when I just need to get it done, so I try to dump all the words right onto the ground and haphazardly sort through them, some in this pattern and some over here, and—oh hey, maybe this is actually gonna form a clear picture. When I'm finished it'll probably be messy; I'll have to adjust it later, but that's okay because at least now I have a beautiful picture staring up at me, and now that the motivation of actually forming an image is gone, I still have the awareness that with just a little tweaking, this could be perfect. Or perhaps flawed, but in a gorgeous way, one where I'll be able to grin at it when I'm done and be proud to let everyone see it.

UM MAY I JUST SAY, I'M EXTREMELY GRATEFUL TO KAMI-SAMA AND MICHAEL-KUN AND YEAH. Don't give those guys enough credit. Cus you know what, not only was I not nervous throughout the test, but I didn't even have to do half the stuff I'd thought I would—like take another written test, do a three-point turnabout, or back fifty feet in a straight line. I just parked in two diagonal spaces and drove around and parked downhill and that was it, man. The attractive man in the car with me didn't even find it necessary for me to use the emergency brake or whatever it is for parking. o.o; (Which is good, cus ours doesn't work, and I'm not very much used to using it in the first place.)

It also just happened to work out that I woke up early enough, and that we had some bananas left, and that I'd taken a shower the night before so my hair would look lovely.

I'm still not even certain what my beliefs are right now, but I know I believe Kami-sama exists, so I'm attributing all these lucky little things to him. I don't want to forget to be grateful, and I've always said that I don't want to take anything for granted.

So Kami-sama, thank you for letting me pass, and thank you for not letting me crash when I drove to the library by myself, and thank you for letting me get two volumes of Kuroshitsuji, and thank you for Komoda because I love her, and I SORT OF HAVE A BEAUTIFUL LIFE.

I also love this song.

It starts off with this heartrending tone and Patrick's voice, and there's just this overall gorgeous dreary sense to it and oh my. ;-; And then suddenly it picks up, and the hidden tragedy still remains, but then there's more activity and words. Fell out of bed, butterfly bandage, but don't worry; you'll never your remember. Your head is far too blurry. Etc~

I love it I love it I love it. Kami-sama bless Fall Out Boy's souls.

Boycott love. Detox just to retox. And I promise you anything for another shot at life. Imperfect boys with their perfect lives. Nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy.

I love Fall Out Boy kthxbai. ^^

stories through silence

So the paint on my D and K keys is emaciated.
Naw not really emaciated. I just wanted to use that word. More like astoundingly worn away.
I don't even get how this happened. One day I looked at them, and there were these huge mangled bare spots ground into the paint, like something had dented them. I suppose it's just because of my nails hitting them so much or something, but all the same, it's odd.
And now a bit of the paint on my fn key is gone too. Just a bit.
I don't even use that key.

Also, I'm reading Eldest, and I just got to the exciting part where the separate plots all converge, and everyone and everything comes together AND IT'S THE MOMENT OF TRUTH.
I'm also still learning new words. So far I've gotten mephitic and turgid out of this reading. I particularly like turgid because it can be used to refer to really full clouds or flooded rivers or the like, but it's also for when people say things that're 'pompous' and—like . . . like extravagant speeches that really don't mean much. There's so much intense vocabulary in here, just, wow. And Christopher Paolini was so young when he published this! I'm going to be like him. @.@ Someday.

I'd really love to be reading Looking For Alaska right now, but my siblings have been demanding I finish the Inheritance cycle quickly. They're still waiting for me to get through the last book so they can read it, too. D: Oops. So I read Looking For Alaska's first page, but that's it. IT'S BEAUTIFUL SO FAR THOUGH. John Green's proper grammar is impressive, and I . . . well, I really haven't gathered much in terms of plot and characters yet, but I'm looking forward to being able to actually read through this, seeing as Paper Towns was so gorgeous and yee.

"There's a letter here waiting to go in the mail; in my head it's all clear, but I'm not quite prepared to fade away. Don't fade away. Somehow I'm trying to do this right."

THIS SONG. 私の神. I'm not even listening to it, but it's captured me so efficiently. It makes me think of my otp. ;_; I . . . okay here I'm going to stick it in here. Right in here. I adore it.

I've heard stories through silence, and we laugh at the end 

and declare that today was the best day we've lived. 

But the end of the night draws a calm to the dark,

where I dream you exist in the places you aren't.

I'm cold inside,

and these pictures can't even explain

what's missing in my life.

The coldest of calendars~

I couldn't have it any better.

Half the time I am alive just to see your smile.

I'm cold inside.

I'm cold inside.

Someday you will understand.

It just takes a little time.

There's a letter here waiting to go in the mail.

In my head it's all there, but I'm not quite prepared

to fade away.

Don't fade away.

Somehow I'll try to do this right.

I'm cold inside,

and these pictures can't even explain 

what's missing in my life.

The coldest of calendars~

I couldn't have it any better.

Half the time I am alive just to see your smile.

Sometimes I feel cold inside,

and it feels like I am sleeping outside.

Indoors there's a light I can see in your eyes.

I've seen nights without sleep, days without daylight.

These memories I keep won't keep me warm at night.

The coldest part is the heart that we share.

It's breaking apart and you're not even here

to say things will get better,

so, freezing, I'll blanket my discontent till I sleep again.

I'm cold inside.

I'm saving a story that won't begin til you're there.

 It makes my heart ache to daydream about it. XD

I'm sort of a sucker for things that do that to me. I recently finished watching Wolf's Rain, and I cried so fucking much that I knew I was in love with it. And now I'm working on FMA, which has already made me want to sit and sob. But the thing with FMA is that its sorrow is a different kind. With Wolf's Rain it was a "No, but ;__; Kiba . . . Toboe . . . Tsume . . . Hige . . . Blue . . . I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH; WHY, JUST, WHY"
But FMA has this sort of disturbing undertone to the sad elements, so it's just . . . the events are terrible, and then you cry because it's sad, too.

But with Coldest of Calendars, omg. I adore that song, and I feel incredibly lucky for that because I got it for free, on a sampler CD that came with Take This To Your Grave, and the piano is gorgeous (I adore piano), and the harmonization is so bittersweet, and the song really really really really makes me think about my otp.

Then again though, most songs do that to me. I'm in a bit of an obsession.

Sometimes I have these moments where I'm sitting there thinking about actions I just performed, and then I have this sudden disorienting jolt where it feels like I'm only in a dream and like whatever I just did wasn't something connected to me at all, like it was just something performed by a body that I happened to be occupying, and then I wonder at myself for a split second before everything feels normal again.

Oro really likes guitars.

I really like Apple products.

Ryuk and Steve Jobs might've gotten along. Maybe there should be fanfic where Steve Jobs is Kira instead of Light Yagami, and then it's Ryuk's fault that Steve dies, and instead of being a total jerk Light gets to be a completely normal (ish) teenage boy with a normal life who dies a successful policeman who never once did something illegal.

Eh, I don't know what sort of an interesting plot would come out of it though. And it wouldn't be very enjoyable if there wasn't some significant reason for the plot to be that way anyway.

I . . . I should be trying to sleep. I'm tired, and I need to wake up tomorrow.

Oh yeah, and I was supposed to be composing my schedule, too. -le sigh- Ah well. Good night, internet. I'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning.

beauty is everywhere

You know what's a beautiful word?
Cacography.
It means bad handwriting or spelling, and I'm just so thrilled that there's even a word for something like this. X3 I really hope I'll have the opportunity to use it someday. I could pull it on my family next time I read my younger siblings' papers in front of them or something. It'd be so fun.

Something else that's beautiful is my adorable dog. She looks so sweet when she dozes in my room. ;n;

My (relatively) clean floor is another beautiful thing. I mean, as you can see, it's sort of a meh color (at least a color I find meh). XD But for some reason I find it so lovely when the floor is actually clean. And despite the four things you see on it in this picture, well, it really is cleaner than usual, and I love it.

Aki is beautiful too. She's been working on her cosplay today, and the major parts of her Link cosplay is mostly done. :'DD There was so much beauty in the picture she sent me, with the different parts of it laid out on the floor and just asdfghjkl. Link. She's gonna be Link.

Cosplay in general is just something I adore. I'm not going to go into my philosophical thoughts about it because I honestly haven't bothered to make any; I just love the concept, and it's really asdfghjkling fun to take a sewing machine and a pile of fabric and turn it into a recognizable piece of a beloved character's wardrobe.

My dear Sophistication is another beautiful thing. c': I got a gift in the mail from her today: Looking for Alaska. I'VE BEEN WANTING TO READ THIS BOOK FOR A LONG TIME. (Sophi, if you're reading this, I already thanked you via IM, but all the same, thank youuuuuuuu. <3)

Tumblr is pretty beautiful, too. I made my own today, and it feels fantastic because I've been looking forward to this moment for a few weeks now. ^-^ I have no clue what I'm going to do with it (or myself) now that I have it, though. I suppose the only thing to do is try and keep the small streak of schoolwork-related productivity I've built while continuing to enjoy myself in life. Maybe I can even find a new way to reward myself if I keep up with the productivity . . . that could be fulfilling. Hmm hmmm hmmmm. I'll have to decide what, though.

Sophie is also beautiful because she . . . science. Oh my.

Sophie: shadow is a lovely girl
Sophie: with an excited personality
Sophie: perpetually amazed by the world
Sophie: at room temperature, she is naturally above all normal atomic levels
Sophie: she is a full 7, right before the stable 8
Sophie: prone to change, easy to react
Sophie: malleable, colourful
Sophie: dark, but always in light
Sophie: since SH reacts very easily
Sophie: it is often in the form of SHL
Sophie: (reacting with L, obviously)
Sophie: ionic compound, that

/abbreviated chat log
I sort of love science.

HECK I'M DONE TALKING. THE WORLD IS BEAUTIFUL, LET'S LEAVE IT AT THAT.