~ ad astra per aspera ~

F-LIST: IMPORTANT SHIT.

2008-12-12T09:50:38Z

Why am I changing my account, you may ask?

This account has a lot of... weird stuff on it. I kind of want to put a lot of that stupidity and neurotic behavior behind me. I want to write in a journal that does not bring back unwanted memories. It's just for personal reasons, not really for vanity. If I wanted to change my LJ username that badly, I would, but that's not the reason I'm doing this.

I want the journal, though it will be weird at certain points, to be more serious in nature.

My new LJ username is ignixferroque and I've already added my friends to that journal. I will be transferring mod status to that account in my various comms soon.

Comment here if you've got a bone to pick, I'll be checking this LJ until Monday.

PS: A bit miffed that I have to redo the entire Dr. Who emotion theme. I mean, seriously, come on.

New LJ name.

2008-12-12T01:05:09Z

Here's a list of names I'm pondering over.

alis_aquilae - on an eagle's wings

gloria_patri - glory to the father

dei_gratia - to the glory of God

ad_astra - to the stars

aegri_somnia - sick man's dreams

imprimatur - let it be printed

ira_deorum - wrath of the Gods

noster_nostri - our hearts beat as one

pax_dei - peace of God

Oh yeah. That's Latin, baby.

NOW HELP ME DECIDE. D8 I'm trying to start anew and turn over a new leaf. Mmmm.

Happy Thanksgiving!

2008-11-27T20:35:09Z

Yay!

Can't make baklava as planned because dad has been sick for the past few days. He's finally better today, and I'm glad. If he wasn't I'd worry. See, his nose was stuffed up and he has sleep apnea. So his mask wouldn't work if he can't breathe and... Yeah. Not good. In any case, he's better now, just tired.

I miss Taisa a lot and I want to hang out with her, but she's down in Mississippi. I hope she has a good holiday though.

Twilight, I hate it. But Carlisle is amazing and the actor Peter Facinelli is one hot piece of man.

Kiby convinced me to write a novel about Hector and Elizabeth. I'm totally down for that, except I'd have to make a few facelift changes to the characters. What works for roleplay does not always work for a good novel. Although, with the advent of Twilight, I suppose "good novels" are relative at this point.

Here's a happy thing for you all.

<3 Happy Thanksgiving. 8D

"All I have is praises on my tongue, from my heart... "

Short story.

2008-11-10T01:10:31Z

Some people need to seriously chill.

Also, I feel horribly lacking in my writing skills so... gonna practice tonight. I feel horribly depressed and uninspired. ._.

***

Hector stared upward at the cold night sky. It was mostly clear and lit by the bright jewel of the moon. The clouds, however, were beginning to gather in the velvet sky.
It was the night of his planned wedding proposal, and he had waited three hours for his love to arrive. The temperature had dropped and Hector had given up all hope when the snow began to fall.
He wandered, crushed, down a flight of stone steps that led up to a large, ornate building. A set of grand columns lined the front entrance, but Hector had his back turned to the cursed edifice as he trod away from it.
What lay ahead of Hector was a university quad covered in snow. The landscape before him was quiet, frozen and dead. As he walked, bundled in a long black overcoat, layers below it and a deep, navy blue scarf, his watering eyes took in the bleak scenery.

Hector walked the path that wound around the quad. He had to be careful of the black ice that lay in dangerous patches underneath his feet. The tree branches that hung overhead were bare and lifeless. The bushes that lined the path were coniferous but coated with snow and covered in a thin layer of transparent ice. Occasionally, Hector would approach old-fashioned lamps that glowed with a yellow warmth on their surroundings. It pained Hector to look at them, as if the dormant world around him was welcome and any sign of light was a mocking reminder of his rejection and loneliness.

The snow continued to fall and muffled Hector's footsteps around the quad. The university that night was quiet; few would remain willingly in such cold temperatures if they had a warmer place to go to. Hector felt himself go numb in his heart. Though he worked his fingers and toes to keep the circulation going, he relished the death of the climate during the winter months. He had always thrived in the cold, in the dark silence. An inch of snow now crunched beneath Hector's feet, and he made his way back to his apartment on foot.

Hector began to take pride in his solitude, and each year he looked forward, not to the depression of the winter months, but to the macabre death of the old and the mechanic advance of progress into the new.

I don't care if it sucks. I went out tonight and was inspired by how it was completely dark and the moon was out at 6pm.

I don't want critique and I am not asking for it. I just hope you'll like it when you read it.

Short story.

2008-11-04T19:25:13Z

It's NaNoWriMo, and though I'm already late with it, I decided to write a bunch of short stories this month (since there's no way I could do a novel at this point).

Just written on the spur of the moment. I don't care about editing it right now, I just feel like writing. And, I'm also taking Mr. Scheetz's advice.

***

Hector Ordell was a timed, precise man with timed and precise habits. He made the efforts to follow his weekly schedule to the letter, but if it seemed that Murphy's Law refused to touch him, it was not so. Ordell, a man of strategy and planning as well as habitual obsession, made sure the events in his day to day life left room for different courses of events. He went, like clockwork, from hour to hour, minute to minute, second to second; he noted every detail with excellent timing and prided himself in what he did. And when he made mistakes, which every man does, he would simply do with what he had until he was satisfied with the situation. He lived a structured, sterile life. He was a machine; when he had problems, he would do his best to fix them, or adjust accordingly, and move on.
However, this outstanding surgeon was more a man of contrasts and hypocrisies than would ever be expected.

In his day to day life, Ordell dealt fairly well with other people. That is to say, he did well enough to successfully maintain his status as head surgeon at Ivy Hospital. His visage was empty and his eyes were calculating and cold. To the strong willed he seemed like an ice sculpture come to life; to the weaker of mind, Ordell was like a spectre who haunted the walls and whose gaze seemed to burn empty gaping holes into the soul. What went on in his mind, no one really knew. And though he was praised highly for his excellent work as a pathologist and a surgeon, he was feared due to the chilled temperance he carried with him at all times. No personal or blood relations were known of him, and to most, Ordell seemed to come from a different world.
A rumor, thought to have been spread by the nurses that had worked with him, circulated that he could scare a crying baby into silence by his mere presence. It had been many years since he had felt the warmth of a human embrace, or locked eyes in the precious eternity of a shared moment.

Ordell left his office to check on his patients, then on to prepare and scrub for surgery. It was nine in the morning, but the hospital buzzed with activity. Ordell seemed not to take notice of the extra apprehension that day--it was election day, and political talk draped over the air like a heavy cloud. Ordell broke through a crowd of nurses who were gathered about outside the operating room. They scattered as they saw him approach briskly and went on about their business.
The surgeon scrubbed up and entered the operating room with his hands held up so he would remain sterile. One of the nurses assisting was the blonde head nurse, Victoria Reinhart, who nodded to him and began their work. He regarded her presence and was instantly reminded of the young woman he had caught in his office the previous day...

A shiver went through Ordell as he operated inside his patient. It was delicate and precarious work and required the utmost concentration and skill. Ordell remained steady of heart and hand; the patient's situation was dire, and he would make sure this man survived.
Ordell worked for hours. There was no room inside him for pity, disgust or amazement at God's creation of the human body. All he had was the information needed to do the job and the skill to carry out the surgery as successfully as possible.
After long hours of painstaking work, Ordell began to fall into fatigue. Victoria and one of the other standing surgeons urged him to switch off and take a break. The surgeon refused--he mentioned to them that he had carried out such an operation before, that he could in fact stand exhausting jobs like this. Victoria and the other surgeon fell mostly silent and murmured to one another as they carried out their own work.
Ordell continued the operation for another while--but he made one fatal error in his plans: He did not count on the memories of the woman in his office leaking into his mind from the fatigue.

He could normally keep his work life and his private life separate, but this physical warmth was something entirely alien to his way of thinking. He had found a thrill, a rush in his occupation, and in the murders deeds he would commit every few months. But this... this young woman was something new. She had successfully--and unintentionally--awakened in Ordell an entire set of emotions he had long since discarded as useless.
Elizabeth Warren was now the choking vine which had breeched Ordell's concrete walls, and he was not yet fully aware of the effects of these events.

Suddenly, the pulse of the patient ceased. The long, high pitched beep struck Ordell's mind like a baseball bat. Victoria, the other surgeon and the technicians sprang into action. Ordell and his team attempted to bring the patient back, but to no avail.
The man, whether by some error Ordell had made or by an unforeseen complication, was dead.
The head surgeon stormed out of the operating room, leaving Victoria and the others to take care of the corpse and paperwork.

As Ordell stripped off the bloody gloves and changed into a fresh pair of scrubs and his lab coat, he realized that, for the first time in his life, he had run into a problem that he could not fix.
He would have her, kill her, whatever it took. He vowed to remove this problematic girl from his psyche.

Yeah it sucks, shush.

New Character.

2008-10-29T22:14:21Z

Oh hell yeah. I made a new character in theme of Halloweeny tiems.

Name: Hector Ordell
Age: 38
Trade: Head surgeon
Gen. Info: He's the head surgeon in the town's hospital. Victoria will become suspicious of him out of mere intuition, and rightly so. For years, Dr. Ordell had presided over the morgue and continues to be rather active in the bodies that come in and out of the hospital. Occasional mysterious deaths have occurred and the hospital has tried to cover up the records of several bodies gone missing. Strange rumors have gone around. Dr. Ordell had once also been a pathologist before becoming a surgeon.

Recently, a rash of crimes has broken out across the town. Six bodies were already found--mutilated--in random areas. The blood around the bodies and the positions the corpses were found in--bound--pointed out that the victims were vivisected.

Happy Halloween~

PS: If anyone wants to draw this guy, be my guest. He's gotta have a pointed, sneering face and glasses. Otherwise, go wild. ...Oh, and also, I'd rather him be skinny of build. Like, tall and skinny. Like a thin, creepy spindly man. 8D If he's not, that's cool. >x)

Writing... Poems?

2008-10-29T15:48:15Z

I really want to write. And I know it's going to suck. But LJ is my dumping ground, so ignore it if you're in the critiquing mood.

I like writing poetry of whatever meter comes to mind. I'm not looking for critique, these are made purely out of creative venting. Take of 'em what you will. ~~Damn, it's been a long time since I wrote poetry.~~ They may not make any sense to you, but that's okay. I'm not writing them for you guys. *cough* You can comment if you want to though, I don't mind that.

These things I lay before you as regrets;
small inconveniences, like fleas--
They are molehills made from mountains.

These things I lay before you as regrets;
great disturbances, like storms--
They bother where there is peace.

These things I lay before you as regrets;
final solutions, like shrapnel--
God's plan will reveal itself while I wait.

***

I am done, I am done!
Please, give me no more.
I have completed this task, let me go.

I am done, I am done!
You, I've had enough.
My heart's cup brims with joy and with sadness.

I am done, I am done!
Now, I am at peace.
Melancholy is gone, leaving just love.

In keeping with tradition of what I've done in the past, I'm leaving this entry public, as I used to do with my writing projects.

PS: Posting an old poem that's probably riddled with grammatical poetry errors. I don't care, just read it, but I love what I wrote years ago. *EDIT*: I went ahead and edited the grammar (punctuation) though, I've never taken a poetry class and I'm not sure if it's all correct. Whatever.

Ink smears my nose
darkly, a messy smudge;
That is also a sign of my work.

My fingers jitter
shakily, their strength sapped
from long hours of holding my pen.

Late is the hour of the night
in which I sit,
my masterpiece is finally complete
in all its musical glory.

Pages upon pages do the notes
extend gracefully--
My masterpiece, finally complete,
is a work of benign wonder.

A body falls to the floor
softly--an exhausted testament--
Eternal sleep at the end of my symphony.

Area of history question? D:

2008-10-28T15:07:10Z

So guys... Registration soon... Uh. I'm not going to ask what area of history I should choose. What I want is the Ancient West (Europe and the Near East) in general, or perhaps ancient Western religions. Just your guys' thoughts on the subject would be great. I mean, I am going to talk to Dr. Brown and my advisor and my English professor (there's a class he's teaching next semester that I really want and he suggested it to us). But a student's opinion is something else I want; it'll help me make a decision, rather than make it for me, so go ahead and rant away. >_>

Holy crap, I love not having a paper to worry about on Tuesday morning. 8D I just reheated some soup and ate some crackers with it and a cup of juice. Best morning ever. Needless to say, this (and Taisa/Meg/the girls at WFH) = just what I needed.

"Actually, it's all a whole lot of sound and fury signifying everything."

++UPDATE++

Thanks guys! Interestingly enough, your advice has given me more courage to talk to my professors. Speaking to my English prof doesn't make me want to piss myself as much anymore. >_>

So, yeah. I decided that I'm going to do ancient western history and see where it takes me. My topics of specific interest? I'll figure those out as I do my studies, but I'll probably slide into religion and/or philosophy. I talked to Dr. Hill and he suggested I take his class on utopian society next semester. 8D YAY.

Writer's Block: Comedians as Journalists

2008-10-17T08:59:21Z

Distrust of the media has grown to the point where many people only trust the news if it comes from a comedian. Who do you trust more: Stephen Colbert or Jon Stewart?

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Because apparently "Joe Plumber" is sooooooo important~

I watch both, end of story. But as any intelligent person knows, just watching those two--as hilariously informative as they are--just isn't enough. But before I get on my soapbox, I just have to say... Jon, Stephen, I don't know what I would do without you. My life would be a bleak place at 10pm-11pm and 7pm-8pm every weeknight.

*sniff*

Leeeeaves from the viiiine~

2008-10-12T17:29:17Z

Join unter_allen, damn you! It's starting to pick up again.

I was just now browsing the internet and found people complaining about Scrubs. No one made you watch the last two seasons, guys, don't wank all over the forums--the threads are slow enough as it is, and there's no need to be so negative (as much as I didn't like the last two seasons, I hate wank even more).

Taisa came over this morning and I had fun! 83 I really missed being able to spend time with and talk to a good friend in person. <3 We had breads.

Mako, whyyyyy?! D'8

"Stop hitting me in the head, you're going to give me dain bramage."

Coolest dreams EVER.

2008-10-11T19:32:48Z

Sooo.... I don't remember much about them, but last night I dreamed first about.... um..... being on some sort of beach.... And then I dreamed about being Harry Potter, and I was playing on this magic organ, and Hermione was there, and it turns out were got turned invisible somehow. And there was this freaky column of spirits or something, that kept singing.... wow...Then my dad woke me up. XD BUT IT WAS SO COOL.

So I went back to sleep.

Then later I had a dream where I was a Jewish kid in this AMAZING treehouse and I had some friends over (I was a guy and they were guys too) but they started trying to mess it up and I was like "NOOO. D8" So we got into this epic waterfight where he had a huge gun with ridiculous pressure and I had a shield (with the Star of David on it. o_O) and then we ended up giving up.... so we went to someone else's house... Also I think at some point, I was in a stadium to watch a basketball game and a bunch of black people were like "WTF WHY ARE YOU HERE?" and I was like "But I love basketball. D':" o_o

Then I had a dream that had something to do with the Simpsons but I don't remember what it was. >_>

Thennn.... I had a dream where I was in this one group that was... I guess, a resistance group for a Nazi-type regime (only they weren't Nazis but it's a good comparison) and it was somewhat Johnny Questlike. Or rather, Venture Bros.-like. So then this awesome military chick came in (and I ended up switching to her POV) and shenanigans ensued. SHE WAS SO AWESOME. Her name was.... Ira I think, even though I'm pretty sure that's a male Hebrew name... Anyway, I'd rather not try to describe what happened, but she did her best to help the group (random prisoners we'd help escape some prison, a group of preppy agents, a few guys that were awesome and a book-loving kickass young woman librarian). But then like... some of the group didn't like what she was doing, so they tried to sabotage her, and we had to deal with all of that.

Then we finally dealt with everything because we got an emergency call that another person from the resistance needed help. This involved speed boats and AWESOME STUFF. So then we all raced after a certain boat and managed to board it. I shot a bunch of guys because out of nowhere, I was Zach. XD I grabbed this iron bar on the boat and swung inside HOLY CRAP. Then we were all YAAAAY and some guy was like "You're just trying to impress Ira. Showoff. :\" and I was all "Yeah okay, I was. >_>"

So then I guess it skipped ahead to later and we met... Mrs. Dickerson who was the US president? And she was like "congrats on saving this random country that's like Germany but not!" and I was Ira again. BEHIND A MACINTOSH FACTORY.

That is all. 83

Boundaries. 8D

2008-10-10T17:35:18Z

Drawing boundaries is a healthy part of relationships. A relationship is not healthy if you don't have mutual respect for one another and if you're not drawing or adhering to reasonable conditions.

Drawing boundaries or making requests of a friend is not bitching. If you're wondering how someone else feels or thinks about something, a friend has every right to ask and the other friend is obligated to give a straightforward and respectful answer. They also have the right not to answer, but it's better to do so. If you don't give an answer, at least dignify your friend with a reason for not answering the question. IT'S CALLED RESPECT.

Holding someone accountable for a broken boundary--such as if someone does drugs and a friend asks them to try and stop, but they don't try, so the other friend warns them they'll have to cut off the relationship or do something similar if the boundary is not paid attention to--is not bitching. Within reason, holding people accountable is the best thing for a relationship, as long as the people are respectful to one another.

Yes, boundaries do entitle friends to change to draw closer to one another. And yes, they can cause disagreement and pain. But if both parties think the relationship worth it, they'll try and do their best to mend things and come to a new understanding.

If you don't try to draw boundaries, people will think you don't care. If someone, to use the drug example again, just says "You can do what you want, it's your choice, go ahead and destroy your life, we're still friends" that's great and all, but in my experience, if you have that attitude about one thing, and you let someone get away with repeated offenses, they're NOT GOING TO STOP AND YOU WILL KEEP GETTING HURT. You have to draw a line. If you're not, it's not a healthy relationship. It just isn't, no matter how much two people care about one another.

People will think you don't care if you don't draw boundaries because they'll realize they're getting away with everything, and it sends off an attitude of lack of interest. It doesn't matter if you do care, if you're not actively trying to show someone that you care about them, sometimes they're not going to get it. You have to tell people you love them. Relationships are living, in this sense; they're ongoing and that's part of the beauty of friendship and companionship with other people.

If a person invokes a boundary and it is not followed, such as "please don't verbally abuse me" and yet the person keeps breaking this rule, the first person has every right to break the relationship off after they have tried to talk to the other person and the other person has not agreed or attempted to make a compromise. If a friend is acting in such a way and a group of friends feel hurt by it and try to get the person to stop, but the person doesn't, them breaking off the relationship after attempts at reconciliation is not abandonment. Friendship is something that is EARNED. YOU EARN FRIENDSHIP. You don't grab it and leave it stagnant. Once again, it's a living thing that has to be maintained between two or more people.

Love has boundaries, but that's okay. You can't breed love from chaos, and without healthy, reasonable boundaries, there is no order. That's why a plan and communication are so important when dealing with others.

If you can't learn to stop making excuses, if you can't learn to protect yourself, if you can't learn to understand that other people need to know how you feel in a respectful way, if you can't get that relationships need to be maintained and expectations at least attempted to be met, you're going to fall and you're going to fall hard.

Doing all these things doesn't ensure a relationship without pain. Life comes with pain. But dealing with issues and learning how to cope with compromises and changing for the better is much better than long-term poison from an unhealthy relationship. I speak from personal experience, from what I've dealt with in my family.

That is all.

Writer's Block: Speak Like a Pirate Day

2008-09-19T08:01:45Z

Ahoy me hearties, the call of the sea be strong! Seein' as it's Speak Like a Pirate Day, let's have all ye landlubbers, scallywags and sprogs tell us in a buccaneer's tongue who yer first mate be, and what sort of booty yer willin' to walk the plank for. Savvy?

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AR. IT BE SPEAK LIKE A PIRATE DAY. My fellows be Captains Jack and Taisa, comrades-in-arms in the choppy seas I be callin' "high school." That's land what's off the map, where the monsters lie and men are devoured whole, down, down into Davey Jones' Gym Locker (he be needin' to swab his decks and do tha laundry, ay).

I try best to be avoidin' that drasted scurvy, but the past fortnight I've been wobbly on my sea legs and weak of heart and in me gut. One of my shipmates took a shower earlier and it made me think I best clean the poopdeck within the next two days.

I'd like to be gettin' my hands on some of that greenback booty, if y'know what I mean. Prospects for a sea faring voyage at the place they call Chik-fil-A are sendin' shivers down me spine, but the coins will be worth it.

ARRRRHHHH.

***

"I'm just trying to be polite. Don't be a bitch!" - Foamy.

Short story.

2008-08-26T15:35:21Z

Jazz sat up in a cold sweat, panting heavily. She ran a hand through her short black hair and gazed into the semidarkness of her bedroom. Strange shapes loomed out of the night as her eyes focused, until it became apparent that they were just her furniture and various belongings strung about the place at her leisure, turned into temporary monsters upon Jazz's waking by the little amount of light there was in the room. Jazz lay back on her bed, contemplating the dream she had just had; she pulled up her wrist to check the time, and it was four in the morning.
Two hours to doze in the comfort of her bed before she had to rise for work and leave that troublesome dream behind.

The dream had been vivid in color, sound, even touch. In it, Jazz had wandered down the dark and empty corridors of a monstrously large and desperately hollow mansion. She had gone to a door, because something had led her there. It might have been merely a feeling that had done this, but Jazz, now awake, could not recall. Upon opening the door, Jazz had suddenly found herself in a bright outdoor setting; a beautiful mountain landscape lay before her where the grass was green, the sky blue, and the mountains stark, snow-capped and strong. She had felt the breeze against her face, felt the warmth of the sunlight on her skin, and Jazz would swear she had heard birds twittering away in the distance in that imaginary mountain meadow.
Jazz had continued to walk through the grasses until she came up to a wide, flat, glasslike lake. It mirrored the mountains and sky as if God had put it there as the only way to enhance the beauty the land already contained. She had gazed to the side and saw a man settled on a soft white blanket under a tree near the edge of the lake. He waved slightly at her, so she went to him.

The young man had fine features and a laid back, bored outward appearance. His clothes were casual but fit him well, and he seemed at ease. Jazz reached over and took his hand in the dream. He held her hand, leaned over almost shyly, and placed a kiss on her cheek. Jazz smiled. Even in that dark place, she would've felt the same joy and bright feeling had he kissed her there instead.

The two were suddenly running through the dark corridors again. Running from what, Jazz could not remember after waking. She lost the young man--Harry, that was his name--and she stood in a corner of a room, rather frightened. She had stared out the window of the mansion, but instead of a mountain meadow, nothing seemed to be outside the window but pitch black darkness.
A large shadow suddenly crept up on Jazz, and as she turned, the young man raised a knife to her. Jazz let out a yell, but the young man dropped the knife and left the room. Another woman who was rather beautiful entered after the young man had left. Jazz backed away from her and pressed her back against the corner. She felt some strange pull from the window and she feared she would fall out of it. The woman took the knife in her own hands, raised it, and plunged it into Jazz's chest.

That had been the waking moment. Jazz smacked herself and hugged one of her pillows closely. The sheets were silky and extremely comforting whether or not she felt terrible while sleeping in them.
She knew she had to get her mind away from Harry. After four years, she couldn't. She had gotten over the pain, and she wanted him back, but she knew it had been way too long for her to keep dwelling on him. She had to move on in life. She was being childish. But when she prayed to God to help her let go, all she found was more love in place of emptiness.

Jazz dragged a pillow over her head and curled her body under the sheets. She just wanted to forget and move on, but nothing had inspired her more than Harry Chaplin on the first day she met him.

***

I'M SORRY IT'S CHEESY. That stuff turns out like that every time I write it. D8 You know, stuff about someone liking someone else. Jazz has had other relationships, but she just can't get Harry out of her head. 8D

FECK. Gotta run to class.

Classez.

2008-08-25T19:29:10Z

WOW. Today has been really interesting. PHILOSOPHY WITH DR. BROWN IS AWESOME. He stutters occasionally and has Freudian slips a lot, but holy crap, his thought processes and the way he speaks is just... Whoa. He ranted for several minutes on his status as "an untraditional text." I followed it, because for some reason my brain clicks right along with his so far. There were like.. sixty people in there though. o__o But this other girl was like, afterward, "I don't like him, he kept rambling. D: Blah blah blah, I'm good at math so I have license to be a judgmental bitch."

Algebra? Not so great. Professor.... I forgot his name... he's so boring, teaches right out of the book (which may be a good thing if I can make it that way) and seems really uninterested. I talked to him after class though, and he said if I studied he'd help me before each chapter test (because I told him even if I look over my notes I always choke up over Algebra tests and that's why I had to retake 080 even after Algebra II in high school). Anyway, he seems nice enough. I guess he just doesn't have a good desk-side manner. >_>; Like. At all.

Then there's General Studies. Margaret's in there but I didn't talk to her when we dismissed, even though she said hi. I just smiled and nodded. If my--though few--efforts of contact over the summer were met with nothing (she fucking hung out with Alison and Rebecca Sharp all fucking summer) then I really don't see why I should hold up a shallow relationship just because we're in one class together. You might say I'm being cold about it but I'm not trying to be mean to her. I'm just making a new start and I don't want anything to do with that bullshit that happened senior year. I'd rather spare both of us the pain. I want friends that hang around me because they want to, not because there's no one else that they know around at the moment. In short, I don't want to bother with it unless she wants to have a healthy relationship outside of class, and I don't want either of us to have to deal with something we shouldn't have to deal with and risk getting hurt in the process.

Wow I sound mad. I'm not, just tired. I'm gonna do some homework and draw and hopefully FINALLY scan things today. I also think I need to add another class on this week, so I'm going to go to the counseling thing tomorrow. I can't today because I have homework + a much-needed trip to Wal*Mart after dinner with Katherine. Once all THAT is over with, then I have to, later this week, preferably Tuesday or Wednesday, talk to Dr. Coffee, who is the head of .... I guess the History department. I have... matters... to discuss about my major.

LKJDLFKSJF DR. BROWN = WIN.

PS- Financial aid didn't cover my books. :\ So I called dad and he put $360 on the debit card he gave me and I bought my books. I feel like a shitface because I don't know how he'll eat this month. ._.

Okay... that just killed my mood.

Gonna go read thirty pages on an introduction to Philosophy and watch the history channel before I do my algebra on linear functions.

ROFL

2008-08-24T07:16:46Z

LOL

8D

TAKEN FROM HERE: http://prillalar.com/drabbles/

***

1000 BOOMERANG LABRADOODLEs

SOKKA paced FABULOUSLY back and forth. ROBUST dread filled his heart. DR. COX should have been home at least an hour ago and it wasn't like him to be late. Oh, my SQUIRRELY love, SOKKA thought. Where could you be?

Just then, the phone rang. It was the police. DR. COX had been taken hostage by KINKY DEEP CHEST, a supervillain who had the city in a state of SMOKIN' HOT terror. SOKKA fainted dead away, LIKE WHEN COWS INVENTED MILK.

When he came to, there was a bump on his BROAD SHOULDER and the ROBUST dread had returned. "DR. COX, my FABULOUS honey bunny," he cried out SEXILY. "What is KINKY DEEP CHEST doing to you?" Probably torturing him, laughing KINKILY as he RODE him in the BUTTOCKS.

In the midst of all the terror and tears, SOKKA remembered a story his grandmother had told him. If you fold 1000 BOOMERANG LABRADOODLEs, then whatever you wish for will come true.

SOKKA ordered in a supply of BOOMERANG and set to work, folding LABRADOODLEs until his BROAD SHOULDER was sore and he could hardly see. It took a week. He was just finishing up the very last LABRADOODLE when DR. COX walked in the front door.

"DR. COX!" SOKKA screamed and threw himself into DR. COX's arms. "It worked! I folded 1000 BOOMERANG LABRADOODLEs and it brought you back to me." He was so happy, he felt like he was dancing UNDER THE SHEETS. He kissed DR. COX DRAMATICALLY on the BUTTOCKS.

"Actually," DR. COX said, pulling away ESPECIALLY, "I was rescued by the MANLY STETHOSCOPE. He's a new superhero in town." DR. COX sighed. "And he's really PAINFUL."

The ROBUST dread came back. "But you're TANTALIZING to be back here with me, right?"

DR. COX checked his watch. "Sure. But I've got to go meet the MANLY STETHOSCOPE for coffee now to, you know, say thanks for saving my life. Stay SEXY, baby." He left and the door banged behind him.

SOKKA choked back a sob and started folding another LABRADOODLE. Then he went out and got drunk instead.

Eyesight.

2008-07-26T09:04:43Z

I'm really scared for my eyes right now. I don't always do my drops and I'm an idiot for that reason. A stupid fucking irresponsible idiot. Now I'm probably going to pay the price. My eyes are swelling and getting halo around lights. Not objects, thank God, and the halo mostly disappears when I wear my glasses. I've had the halo around light before when I was a little kid, but this doesn't really bode well either way, since glaucoma causes swelling and light halo.

Whatever deity you pray to, please ask that my eyes are healed. And if you don't pray to anything, just hope that the universe decides to take pity on me.

I know it's in God's hands and I shouldn't worry, but I can't help but lay awake and think about it. I don't want the fluid to build up and make me go blind. And only God knows how I'll manage to live and work as a teacher without being able to drive.

I just need to keep praying, and have faith that I might luck out and this is just a temporary problem. I hope God gives this idiot another chance. Faith with fear isn't good faith at all. Whatever happens, things will work out.

Epic.

2008-07-21T04:47:39Z

I think this is all I have to say about the finale.

Avatar Finale. My brains are blown.

2008-07-20T05:44:01Z

Whoa. Whoa. Saw the two hour Avatar finale. Dude. There are no words to describe how amazing that was. Not only is this my biased fandom talking, but artistically speaking, the final four episodes were well-written and excellently executed.

The episodes went at a good pace, the animation was a good quality--not shiny amazing flashy stuff, but very pleasing to the eye and comfortable to watch, as well as a feast to my artistic eye (concerning colors and general movement). The dialogue was also well written and it seemed natural. It wasn't an overly dramatic theatrics fest. That's what I love about Avatar (I used to dislike it), but honestly, what I love about it is that it just feels comfortable. It's not just a fanfic, fanservice, crazy nutcase splash of animation and color and sound. As an artist, I feel very comfortable just having fun watching Avatar, and as a person who loves good cartoons, I totally have to say that Bryke (Bryan and Mike, the creators) definitely delivered.

The music, especially in the Agni Kai (duel) between Azula and Zuko was amazing. Azula going batshit crazy and seeing her mother in a mirror made me cry. Or get close to it. It shows she really does need Ty Lee and Mai. She just doesn't know how to communicate with people except through negativity and intimidation. Holy crap, I have never been moved by an animated program like this. This isn't, once again, just my crazy bias talking--it's also my "holy shit, I've noticed something awesome" senses talking.

THEY USE REAL MARTIAL ARTS AS MODELS FOR THE ANIMATION. In the entire series. They used CG 3-D stuff in the final four episodes too.

I am just completely impressed. It's not overly violent, but it's not frivolous. The characters all go through great development and it's also very realistic. It's not all happy endings, but it's not dark and depressing. Azula going insane seems like a stretch for Nick's demographic of mindless idiots, but as those in capslock atla have said, Bryke seems to be masters of censorbending, if you get the drift.

I am so impressed. They totally delivered, and more. I eagerly await another season/spinoff and the movie.

Video.

2008-07-12T10:25:48Z

Bloooooood.

2008-07-10T17:25:28Z

Good Lord. I just had two shots (one in each shoulder) and an attempt at the taking of blood in my left elbow-crook (my veins are small and hard to find) so then she took the blood out of my wrist. There were nine tubes a bit thicker than my thumb and about as long as your middle (or pointer, depending) finger and she put blood in all of them. So I'm sore, drugged up and dizzy.

I leaned over to check out my blood-in-a-tube and the nurse thought I was passing out, so she started getting all ... freaky (pardon me but I'm drugged up atm), so then she called for ice from a nurse outside and then told me to lay my head down on the bed, which I was sitting next to. RUN ON SENTENCES, YAY. So then the nurses started swarming me, which I appreciate, but I'm slightly closterphobic (I know spelling is wrong, ain't looking it up right now) and I started freaking out because she pulled my hair up to put an ice pack on it and it made it feel like they were going to stick a needle in my neck. Not helping. Started getting dizzy and nauseated.

Then they gave me some air and I um.. started heaving over a trashcan they brought up, *cough* threw up a few times, then ended up crawling onto the bed. She kept trying to give me an icepack but I like getting warm and cozy when I feel crappy so I kept pushing it away. Broke out in a sweat and everything had been spinning. Umm... so then I ended up sitting up after a while and then after that I waited longer until I was okay to walk and we left.

Dad picked up some crackers for me at a gas station and I wouldn't STFU because I was concentrating on not being dizzy. I know most of you wouldn't want to read this and I know I said I wouldn't write for a few days, but this drugged up business has put a damper on my plans for today at least. If you couldn't tell by my typing style I'm just trying to keep my mind on other things and my brain is a bit nuts right now.

Fiona keeps meowing. It's annoying me. If I could get up, I'd pet her. BUt I can't get up. So. Yes.

It's a measure of how AWESOME my fingers are that I can even type this.

It's like how if you ever get a head injury or are about to pass out and you're talking and stuff to keep awake, though I am not the type to pass out. At all. YAY STRONG WILL.

Anyway. I got Zoloft prescribed and stuff. Gonna go stare at something now. Love you guys.

Icons! :3

2008-07-07T05:34:10Z

Posting some cute icons I found. XD

Okay I'm done. 83

Story.

2008-07-04T01:11:35Z

Jun, wearing traveling clothing from Borea, the country to the south--layers of white shirts, a green wool waistcoat, tan breeches, leather strapped boots, a heavy black overcoat and a tricorn hat--slowly made his way northward through Verden's northern wooded province, Sylvus. The high, turned up and buttoned collar of the overcoat kept Jun's face safe from the icy temperatures and frosty winds that began creeping through Verden's highlands as winter loomed ahead. He made as much haste as possible to find a village at the base of the northern mountains. He wanted to start a new life; one away from technology and the harsh city bustle that was more common in the countries further south. The sea was nearby as well, and as Jun continued to tread on, he thought fondly of the last time he had visited the shore. It was a long, long time ago, but even as Jun walked, the memory stood out in his mind and gave him warmth.

***

* - Just a side note. I'm going to love writing this story, because I am going to pack it full of discreet--and not so discreet--literature, historical and personal references. See if you can catch one in this entry. It's a shady link between this story and Shelley's Frankenstein.

Uhm.

2008-07-03T06:03:56Z

O mountains high, with mighty winds,
With valley greens swept by Zephyr's hands,
And trees that raise their arms up high;
I travel to these blessed lands
For this is where I come to die.

IGNORE THIS I FELT LIKE WRITING POETRY, SHUT UP.

I think I've stopped hurling for good. Tonight at least.

Time to put more olive oil in my ears. :D

Another Batch of Icons--Don't Kill Me Gais.

2008-07-01T09:01:31Z

Making these has become addicting, so here you go. Another small set of Pumpkin Scissors ones. There was another good icon of Alice, but I accidentally deleted it. D:

This one's my favorite. XD

As usual, credit for usage and let me know if you edit them n' add text. :D I'm an icon whore~