yes, i know.

while i only posted a few hours ago, i just need to say this:

well, i needed a piece of music for my book, and i wanted something that shone. so, i poked around and came across a list of composers. the really good ones, like mozart, beethoven, bach, and- the man i eventually picked- tchaikovsky. i originally looked at him because he wrote the song featured in one of my favorite movies of all time, v for vendetta. i scrolled through some of his music on youtube, and i found his serenade for strings. usually i dont exactly appreciate string music, but this is beautifully written and it can be played on other instruments.there is a bit of a gap in the middle, but it only spans a few seconds. it is quite perfect for my purposes. and, as a past pianist, (sort of...)i just must type as if i am playing the piano. a grand piano, made of an almost black wood, polished to perfection. i can just see it now, moving my shoulders in that pianist way... and now the song is over. i was listening to it just now, fyi. the end is great, a tiny flourish and nothing more. same with the beginning, just a tiny little start up, but then again it doesnt just start. i started it again. i think i need to buy this song, and put it on a playlist over and over and over to listen to whilst im writing. thatd be nice. mm, and theres that little pause. just wonderful, you really need to listen to it. really. well, ttfn, and enjoy my rare and brief musical posts.

xkcd

is an awesome site. alot of computer terms im not familiar with, but the others are funny. this is an online comic site, by the way. xkcd.com. its awesome, and this is not advertising, because no one reads my blog anyways.

i havent worked on my story in a while, but ive decided to start at the beginning this time. i have a small excerpt from the middle-ish, and about a fifth of chapter one so far. ah well. better than nothing. juxtapose is my new favorite word.

i dont have much to say, i was in this blogging groove where i posted every day, but that is over and done with. i think i might actually write now. i dont know, probably not.

im back. i stopped to open my writing, thinking that i was going to maybe post the first few sentences, but then i remebered, i started at the second paragraph. no awesome lead yet... im gonna go find some advice. seeya.

i need a hobbie. other than words.

yes, i type up my story. yes, i read. yes, i listen to audiobooks. yes, i go to school. no, there is nothing else in my life. besides you of course, my bloggie buddy. and e. and stalker boy. did i rant about him on my blog yet? i dont think i did, so here goes:

stalker boy follows me around during school. he tries to be less creepy around me, and fails. he scares the living daylights out of most normal people. he is a bitch to all my friends. he thinks i like him. he likes me, if you know what i mean. he tried to buy me an early birthday present last month. did i mention my b-day is mid june?? this kid is seriously screwed up. really. and i cant let him know hes a creeper because he might sneak into my house and stab me to death. probably not, but still. its possible. kinda. i guess not. but im gonna show you the first section of my story. is it a good hook??

no, im not. im just to tired, and its alot that i have for the beginning and i cant shorten it. so, gbye bloggie. ttfn.

the smell of bleeding grass

well, its raining. it rained yesterday, and the day before, and the day before. it smells like freshly mown grass, or a sunstorm. and i love that smell. a few nights ago, my mum had a council meeting. i had to go, and do you know how i spent my time? i waltzed around outside, in the rain, for 3 hours. that smell shall never tire me. i promise, if i were to smell one thing and only one thing for the rest of my life, it would be the smell of bleeding grass. the beautiful uncut hair of graves. (whitman quote, from song of myself. i adore that line.) and the hair of graves smelt of rain, and peace, and petals fluttering in the scented breeze. i like that line. i must use it again. i just copied it into word, where it rests above my W.I.P. to-be. yes, what i have cannot even be considered a work in progress yet. i do have a good, solid character, though. i like her. she is shy-er than me, and motherly, and she is fearful of the people swirling in her midst. she is also agoraphobic. look it up. this girls name is Alina, which is a dutch name meaning alone. it suits her very well. she also has two friends so far, isaac and aidan. isaac is friend by default, and aidan is a little boy who she was charged with taking care of. kinda. she kidnapped aidan, because he would have had to endure a horrid circumstance that would further traumatize him. she and isaac took him together, and they rented an apartment together to care for him. isaac helps alina lessen her fears, and they unite to protect aidan. dont steal my story. please. i just turned brief details about one partially developed character into the second half of my plot. the first is where alina discovers her friend by default. and this is where i end, bloggies. i appreciate your reading, even though there is no one to read my writings. yet. i will get published. i will share my works with the world. but, for now, i am content to let my ambitions slide by the way side as i write the story you are destined to read. ttfn.

ok. im going to do this.

so... i think im going to actually finish this new idea. or at least, get farther into it than i have with anything else. well, i will try. have you ever tried passion fruit? it may look like vomited up intestines, but it is amazingly delicious. really. try one. and also horned melons. slimy... yet satisfying. recognize the line? its from the lion king.

guah. i also got alot of great advice from a few published authors. i think i may actually have a chance, once i have developed my characters a bit. and fixed up my plot. i think what i have is pretty good though. heres an excerpt:

Their feet echoed, loud and ominous, as the timorous duo set off down the stark white hall. The tiny black book was clutched in her hand. She could feel the blood pumping through her hands. He followed, a short distance behind her. Two sets of eyes darted back and forth, like and undying pendulum. Look to the left. Step. Step. Look to the right. Step. Step. She shuddered. Why couldn’t she have stayed in her nice, placid area? A set of giant, heavy shapes blossomed into view ahead. Every angle sharp and focused, just like everything she had ever seen. The flat, dependable floors and walls surrounding her. The only uncertainty in her life had been him. They unreachable boy. And now, even the uncertainty had been altered. He was there. She had felt him brush against her arm moments after the collapse. The rectangles were there, within reaching distance. He was now level with her, both starring at the door. She noted his height. He was taller than she. This puzzled her, more than the shape was. After all, that was just a few lines. He reached out, and laid a hand on the expanse of white. It creaked. They both gasped, but not at the noise. Something, something completely unknown and unfamiliar shone through. It sparkled and glistened, and mesmerized them. There was nothing to break the silence except this. She reached out to touch it, to ensure that it was real. She hesitated before touching it. Could it harm her? Gradually, bit by bit, her hand extended. The barest tip of her middle finger brushed the substance. She was prepared to pull back, but it was so… warm. This picture was changing the color of her hand, and dancing atop her palms. When he was sure that it was doing no damage to her, he reached his hands out, too. Miscalculating the distance, his fingers nudged the wall, and more of it leaked out. There was now a visible gap in the wall. Wearily, she pushed her littlest finger into the gap. She could feel the ice cold stiffness of the lines, and a contrasting soft of the unknown. The finger had disappeared behind the lines. So, there must be something back there to touch? She pulled the finger back towards her, and the lines came with. He gasped, and leapt back. A wonderland greeted them.

Clad in white tunics, a couple treaded from the hard white marble hall to the softly stirring green. They were both shocked at the touch of it. Bare footed fellows stepped through the lines that had held them their entire lives. He immediately stopped to warm himself in the glow emanating from what seemed to be everything, but she walked on. The sky was a vast, immense iron grey. The trees that surrounded everything were glowing a vivid green. The color sparked something inside her. Birds sung and dived as she flung out her arms to greet the first day.

thats when they are leaving the container. the black book is a journal that she had been keeping. well, goodbye. im going to go type somthing, and reread my advice. i didnt finish reading it, i just copied it onto a microsoft document to read later. theres probably 6 pages? some from laini taylor and some from kristin cashore. ttfn, mes amis.