Color is wonderful. This almost sounds wrong, but I am so glad that I am not color blind. I just flipped through a bedding catalogue just to absorb the beautiful colors. I have a jar of colored water in my room that exists only to be that color. It is a lovely deep, light, liquid aqua. I have caught myself staring at it for whole minutes at a time. The best part of going to the baseball field in the evening is watching the range of color in the sky. Even if there is no big sunset, the blues of the sky are magnificent. It last for maybe 45 minutes after the sun has set sometimes. I saw a beautiful scene the last time we were at the field. Most people had left, and it was mostly quiet. There was some talking and laughing at a distance in front of us, but it was somewhat detachted from the moment. The air was warm and dry, and the breeze blew gently. I looked up at the blue-black of the sky, and the pear blossoms were an almost blinding contrast to the sky. The lights from the field reflected off of the white petals, and framed against the dark sky, the trees were beautiful. It was an amazing moment.
I have been looking at house plans, and found this 'castle' plan.
I want a portcullis. Maybe I will upload some of my own plans later. I love underground and tree houses. I also have a plan for a Tower. The first floor is a library. I love it. It involves a ladder, fireman pole, and slide. I also have maze houses, houses with secret passages, and massive luxury mansions. I have yet to create a reasonable house plan, and have been heard to complain that my architect software does not have round doors. Sound familiar? They are common in the Shire... Anyway, today seems to have been all about completely pointless stuffe. Played with my young cousin. Talked to a friend I haven't seen in awhile. Worried about theatre camp I am running. Today is a washed-out red.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Monday, July 5, 2010
Chauvert cookie cutters
I've been reading and listening to the Scarlet Pimpernel, Jekyll and Hyde, and Les Miserables. They are three of my favorite books and musicals. It is remarkable how similar the antagonists are, particularly Javert and Chauvelin. Wow. I just realized that they are both French. Javert and Chauvelin both have ideals and their enemies (Valjean and Percy respectively) destroy or corrupt those ideals. They both become more and more obsessed with those enemies as the enemies continue to evade them. They both adore the government. Javert idealizes and represents the Law, while Chauvelin is the hand of the Revolution. They both consider themselves to be correct. Both mercilessly send criminals to death and lifelong imprisonment. Chauvelin seems understand a bit better that he is not pure. He understands that sometimes he sacrifices morals for what he considers the greater good. Javert, on the other hand, does not seem to accept impurity in himself. However, in the end, he also sacrifices his morals for his country by becoming a spy. He acknowledges that, as a spy, he deserves death. When Percy spares Chauvelin, he is confused, but retains his hatred.
' "Then," Chauvelin murmured aghast, "you grant me my life, you---"
"I am sending you back safely as far as Nimes. What happens to you after that I neither know nor care. You have tried to do me such an infinity of wrong at different times, you still hate me so cordially, you---"
He paused for a moment with firm lips tightly pressed together and slender hand clutched upon his knee.
"You are right there, Sir Percy," Chauvelin murmured between his teeth. "God knows how I still hate you, even after this. You have the power to hit back. Why the devil don't you do it (Sir Percy Hits Back, Chap 39)?"'
Javert also retains his hatred but, unlike Chauvelin's determination, commits suicide. I have always thought of suicide as cowardly, and Javert's death is no different. However, in Javert's character, it is forgivable. His understanding of life and his place in the world must alter if he remains alive. He chooses death over giving up his ideals.
Hyde is different in that he is entirely selfish, having few ideals. He also commits suicide, but his death is entirely out of cowardice and fear of the gallows. He is not a lovable character, but we can pity him and his desperate clinging to his own existence. Today is pale, pale blue like a powder for an aristocrat's wig.
' "Then," Chauvelin murmured aghast, "you grant me my life, you---"
"I am sending you back safely as far as Nimes. What happens to you after that I neither know nor care. You have tried to do me such an infinity of wrong at different times, you still hate me so cordially, you---"
He paused for a moment with firm lips tightly pressed together and slender hand clutched upon his knee.
"You are right there, Sir Percy," Chauvelin murmured between his teeth. "God knows how I still hate you, even after this. You have the power to hit back. Why the devil don't you do it (Sir Percy Hits Back, Chap 39)?"'
Javert also retains his hatred but, unlike Chauvelin's determination, commits suicide. I have always thought of suicide as cowardly, and Javert's death is no different. However, in Javert's character, it is forgivable. His understanding of life and his place in the world must alter if he remains alive. He chooses death over giving up his ideals.
Hyde is different in that he is entirely selfish, having few ideals. He also commits suicide, but his death is entirely out of cowardice and fear of the gallows. He is not a lovable character, but we can pity him and his desperate clinging to his own existence. Today is pale, pale blue like a powder for an aristocrat's wig.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Best Dream Ever
I use "he" because this person is genderless. This is the dream that I was talking about in the previous post. It was incredible. The peacefulness and joy were overwhelming. Yes, it is cheesey. Yes, it is revealing. No, I do not approve of suicide in any form. No, I don't really care. The absolute acceptance was breathtaking. It is difficult, sometimes, to understand that when we die, it won't really matter to the vast majority of the world. only a few out of millions will even realize that you are gone, or that you ever even existed. There was an acceptance of this in the peace and jooy that this person found in his death. I love those moments in life where nothing matters. Pain, joy, family, None of it matters. Those are moments worth living for. Whenn I understand for an instant that I am nothing, everything is alright for a moment. Anyway... here is my beautiful-yet-poorly-written dream.
The End
He sat perched like a cat on the porch railing with his back against the post. No, she thought, not like a cat, more like a tiger. Cats were too cute, but tigers were lithe, silent, and beautiful. It was too strange that this person was sick. Soon, very soon he would be confined to a bed, weak and helpless as a kitten. Somehow, she knew it would not come to that. And the sunset was so beautiful, the pinks and deep purples melding like the verses of a lullaby before melting into a glorious red crescendo. It was hard to worry or even feel pain in the face of such a wonderful end to the day. Peaceful, she decided, looking at everyone's faces. Everyone she loved was gathered around and their faces were peaceful. An uncle pulled out a guitar and a niece pulled out some sort of whistle and everyone instinctively pulled closer together as an impromptu melody quietly filled the air. As the sunset faded slowly away, many said goodnight. He hugged each as they exited. Eventually she and he and their father were all that remained. They talked quietly and intimately for an hour before father sighed and hugged us both tightly. We stood like that for several minutes, then slowly released Victor and went inside, still leaning on one another. I was sad, but I didn't know why then. I think that deep down I knew I was mourning more than the end of the perfect day.
He watched them leave and spared them each a silent tear of farewell, though the deep ache faded quickly until all he felt was peace. Walking down to the fields at an unhurried pace, he gazed at the mountains and stars and wondered how old they were. The stars were doubtless thousands of years old. What would that feel like? He smiled. Surely ants asked the same of humans. "How does it feel to be decades old? I am sure I would not like it." they would say. When he reached the field, he stood and watched the breeze dancing with the trees until the person on the other side of the meadow turned to look at him. Then he understood. Silently they drew their blades. Bowing to one another, they made clear their respect for the other. Smiling slightly they took one step toward one another, then another until they were running. As their blades shattered the silence into a thousand pieces, their hearts were unified and they truly understood the other. The faint smiles grew to their usual grins, though not as reckless as was typical. Again and again they clashed, neither seriously injured though some blood was drawn. The dance continued far past a realistic time period. No words were required for the fierce joy that filled them as their blades shuddered and swung. The breeze picked up until their fierce dance was joined by thousands of dead leaves swirling and leaping. Deep into the night, the moon lit their field and the mountains and stars watched the wisdom and foolishness of these humans. Laughter died first as the end drew near. The dance slowed deliberately until a final fierce clash forced them back. Words finally emerged as they regarded one another. "we have succeeded." He said as the burden finally lifted. "Of course," his partner nodded, "there was no other way." He smiled again. "I have enjoyed it." "But I will not miss it." "Only them." He glanced one final time at the house on the hill, then turned back to his partner. The run was as silent and short as the first one, but instead of a resounding clash, the silence was broken by slightly surprised gasps. Then gently they pulled their swords from the other's chest, staggered backwards, and fell. He gazed up at the stars as his lifesblood pooled around him. He gazed at their numerous twinkling eyes until his vision blurred. Then as he felt himself pulled into relentless, blackest arms, he closed his eyes and thought. It was beautiful.
They found him there the next morning. First she and father came sliding down the hill as the sky once more grew grey and other colors began peeking out from the tips of the mountains. When they saw him from the other end of the meadow, the secret fear was suddenly realized in both of their hearts. Carefully, softly they crept up to look down at him. Tears began to pool in her eyes, but when she saw him smiling gently the tears somehow became unnecessary. They sat with him for a little while, but the longer she sat, the more she understood that this was right and necessary. She would miss him, but she would see him again. And it would hurt more to see him helpless in a bed than to have simply gone on another journey. She even managed a sort of smile as she whispered "I love you." in his ear. Eventually the others who knew him best came wandering down the hill. None of them cried more than a few a tears, for they already knew. father picked him up and gently carried him up the hill as the young morning became the fully-fledged summer day the sun had promised. The others wrapped arms around shoulders for support because the worst was to come. This was his real funeral and the birds played the best music ever heard and the sun draped a golden cloth over his bloodstained shirt. When they reached the house, the peaceful magic fragile as a held breath was again shattered by others wailing and fussing and saying I'm sorry to those who were not. Those who understood pitied those who had not seen him lying in the field smiling. They held the moment like a precious bubble of hope in their hearts for the rest of their lives. For he was gone but the world was still good and he had known it, and been glad.
The End
He sat perched like a cat on the porch railing with his back against the post. No, she thought, not like a cat, more like a tiger. Cats were too cute, but tigers were lithe, silent, and beautiful. It was too strange that this person was sick. Soon, very soon he would be confined to a bed, weak and helpless as a kitten. Somehow, she knew it would not come to that. And the sunset was so beautiful, the pinks and deep purples melding like the verses of a lullaby before melting into a glorious red crescendo. It was hard to worry or even feel pain in the face of such a wonderful end to the day. Peaceful, she decided, looking at everyone's faces. Everyone she loved was gathered around and their faces were peaceful. An uncle pulled out a guitar and a niece pulled out some sort of whistle and everyone instinctively pulled closer together as an impromptu melody quietly filled the air. As the sunset faded slowly away, many said goodnight. He hugged each as they exited. Eventually she and he and their father were all that remained. They talked quietly and intimately for an hour before father sighed and hugged us both tightly. We stood like that for several minutes, then slowly released Victor and went inside, still leaning on one another. I was sad, but I didn't know why then. I think that deep down I knew I was mourning more than the end of the perfect day.
He watched them leave and spared them each a silent tear of farewell, though the deep ache faded quickly until all he felt was peace. Walking down to the fields at an unhurried pace, he gazed at the mountains and stars and wondered how old they were. The stars were doubtless thousands of years old. What would that feel like? He smiled. Surely ants asked the same of humans. "How does it feel to be decades old? I am sure I would not like it." they would say. When he reached the field, he stood and watched the breeze dancing with the trees until the person on the other side of the meadow turned to look at him. Then he understood. Silently they drew their blades. Bowing to one another, they made clear their respect for the other. Smiling slightly they took one step toward one another, then another until they were running. As their blades shattered the silence into a thousand pieces, their hearts were unified and they truly understood the other. The faint smiles grew to their usual grins, though not as reckless as was typical. Again and again they clashed, neither seriously injured though some blood was drawn. The dance continued far past a realistic time period. No words were required for the fierce joy that filled them as their blades shuddered and swung. The breeze picked up until their fierce dance was joined by thousands of dead leaves swirling and leaping. Deep into the night, the moon lit their field and the mountains and stars watched the wisdom and foolishness of these humans. Laughter died first as the end drew near. The dance slowed deliberately until a final fierce clash forced them back. Words finally emerged as they regarded one another. "we have succeeded." He said as the burden finally lifted. "Of course," his partner nodded, "there was no other way." He smiled again. "I have enjoyed it." "But I will not miss it." "Only them." He glanced one final time at the house on the hill, then turned back to his partner. The run was as silent and short as the first one, but instead of a resounding clash, the silence was broken by slightly surprised gasps. Then gently they pulled their swords from the other's chest, staggered backwards, and fell. He gazed up at the stars as his lifesblood pooled around him. He gazed at their numerous twinkling eyes until his vision blurred. Then as he felt himself pulled into relentless, blackest arms, he closed his eyes and thought. It was beautiful.
They found him there the next morning. First she and father came sliding down the hill as the sky once more grew grey and other colors began peeking out from the tips of the mountains. When they saw him from the other end of the meadow, the secret fear was suddenly realized in both of their hearts. Carefully, softly they crept up to look down at him. Tears began to pool in her eyes, but when she saw him smiling gently the tears somehow became unnecessary. They sat with him for a little while, but the longer she sat, the more she understood that this was right and necessary. She would miss him, but she would see him again. And it would hurt more to see him helpless in a bed than to have simply gone on another journey. She even managed a sort of smile as she whispered "I love you." in his ear. Eventually the others who knew him best came wandering down the hill. None of them cried more than a few a tears, for they already knew. father picked him up and gently carried him up the hill as the young morning became the fully-fledged summer day the sun had promised. The others wrapped arms around shoulders for support because the worst was to come. This was his real funeral and the birds played the best music ever heard and the sun draped a golden cloth over his bloodstained shirt. When they reached the house, the peaceful magic fragile as a held breath was again shattered by others wailing and fussing and saying I'm sorry to those who were not. Those who understood pitied those who had not seen him lying in the field smiling. They held the moment like a precious bubble of hope in their hearts for the rest of their lives. For he was gone but the world was still good and he had known it, and been glad.
why is summer white
Why do songs about death make it easier to hang on to life? It gives me peace, not fear; so, why does listening to death songs make me think, "I can do this. Life isn't so hard."? The best dream I have ever had was a death dream. I die in a lot of my dreams, but the focus of this dream was death. It was incredible. I know I sound a bit creepy, but the feeling truly had very little to do with the content, I think. I will give it its own post after I finish writing this. Wathlae s nwe. I wrote a poem several days ago that is better than most of them. Still not very good, but I like it because I wrote it and I can remember my emotions while writing it.
Amazed, I watch an angel
Soar beneath the full, round moon
Carefree
White feathers shone, purely
Light, reflecting wholly
Iridescent
Silently she sang of
Peace beneath and above us
Ethereal
Earthbound caught I never
Realized until she flew
Flightless
Air and peaceful salt-
Water mingle in her hair
Flowing
Wordless (unnecessary)
She laughs, a sound like rain
Pealing (bells)
Pausing before a swooping
Dive, her garments purest sea-foam
Rippling
Constantly inconstant fay
Welcome unchanging sister
Eternal
Together our gazes are
Drawn inexorably up
Higher
The limitless barrier
Of deep blue with tiny keyholes
Vast
Pure, cerulean, cool, deep,
Light, washing, shifting, contrast
Surrounded
The hunter’s aim is true from
Where he hides in crooked brush
Faultless
Her unnatural broken
body stays only a moment
Wispy
Floating limply down from the
Air, she lands as white feathers
Crimson-streaked
I turn away as the man
Takes my angel, his goose, home
Dead
June 1, 2010
I did not realize my angel was a goose until the end. there are several mistakes in punctuation that I acknowledge but am too lazy to fix. (bells) should probably not be there, but am still undecided on which word to use. Why do I get depressed in the summer? Most people get depressed in the winter, and I love the warmth of summer, the green things, the blue sky. I will go talk to dad now. Today is white.
Surrounded by suffocating white
Burning into my retinas
The silence is audible
Pressing in all around
Blurring my vision
Bleaching my sight
Cut off and
Alone
Help
Amazed, I watch an angel
Soar beneath the full, round moon
Carefree
White feathers shone, purely
Light, reflecting wholly
Iridescent
Silently she sang of
Peace beneath and above us
Ethereal
Earthbound caught I never
Realized until she flew
Flightless
Air and peaceful salt-
Water mingle in her hair
Flowing
Wordless (unnecessary)
She laughs, a sound like rain
Pealing (bells)
Pausing before a swooping
Dive, her garments purest sea-foam
Rippling
Constantly inconstant fay
Welcome unchanging sister
Eternal
Together our gazes are
Drawn inexorably up
Higher
The limitless barrier
Of deep blue with tiny keyholes
Vast
Pure, cerulean, cool, deep,
Light, washing, shifting, contrast
Surrounded
The hunter’s aim is true from
Where he hides in crooked brush
Faultless
Her unnatural broken
body stays only a moment
Wispy
Floating limply down from the
Air, she lands as white feathers
Crimson-streaked
I turn away as the man
Takes my angel, his goose, home
Dead
June 1, 2010
I did not realize my angel was a goose until the end. there are several mistakes in punctuation that I acknowledge but am too lazy to fix. (bells) should probably not be there, but am still undecided on which word to use. Why do I get depressed in the summer? Most people get depressed in the winter, and I love the warmth of summer, the green things, the blue sky. I will go talk to dad now. Today is white.
Surrounded by suffocating white
Burning into my retinas
The silence is audible
Pressing in all around
Blurring my vision
Bleaching my sight
Cut off and
Alone
Help
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
life is good for a laugh
So... I got busy and totally forgot that this existed. If anyone read it, I would apologize, but there is really no point. Only two papers to write/edit this week. Yes! It is so warm! It has been a beautiful for the past few days. It feels like summer should be here anytime, but I still have lots of school. T, Turner, L and I made a music video to the song Life is Beautiful. I was cameraman and poker. It is pretty funny. It took 3 hours to make a 3 minute video. The original plot: Killer kills Sister. Brother hunts killer. Brother finds killer. Killer tries to commit suicide. Brother saves killer. Killer goes to jail. To the song 'Breath' by Breaking Benjamin. The plot once the boys got into it: killer kills sister. Brother hunts killer. They meet at graveyard. Brother kills killer. to the song 'Life is Beautiful' because they liked the music better, although the lyrics make absolutely no sense with that plot. At all. I was just happy that they agreed to do it. We all had a good time.
Life is Beautiful
You can't quit until you try
You can't live until you die
You can't learn to tell the truth
Until you learn to lie
You can't breathe until you choke
You gotta laugh when you're the joke
There's nothing like a funeral to make you feel alive
Just open your eyes
Just open your eyes
And see that life is beautiful.
Will you swear on your life,
That no one will cry at my funeral?
I know some things that you don't
I've done things that you won't
There's nothing like a trail of blood to find your way back home
I was waiting for my hearse
What came next was so much worse
It took a funeral to make me feel alive
Just open your eyes
Just open your eyes
And see that life is beautiful.
Will you swear on your life,
That no one will cry at my funeral?
Alive...
Just open your eyes
Just open your eyes
And see that life is beautiful.
Will you swear on your life,
That no one will cry at my funeral?
Just open your eyes
Just open your eyes
And see that life is beautiful.
Will you swear on your life,
That no one will cry at my funeral?
Just open your eyes
Just open your eyes
And see that life is beautiful.
Will you swear on your life,
That no one will cry at my funeral?
I will try to figure out how to post this vid and one of Nimrod falling in the creek. Today is magenta like our African Violet, soft and sparkly
Life is Beautiful
You can't quit until you try
You can't live until you die
You can't learn to tell the truth
Until you learn to lie
You can't breathe until you choke
You gotta laugh when you're the joke
There's nothing like a funeral to make you feel alive
Just open your eyes
Just open your eyes
And see that life is beautiful.
Will you swear on your life,
That no one will cry at my funeral?
I know some things that you don't
I've done things that you won't
There's nothing like a trail of blood to find your way back home
I was waiting for my hearse
What came next was so much worse
It took a funeral to make me feel alive
Just open your eyes
Just open your eyes
And see that life is beautiful.
Will you swear on your life,
That no one will cry at my funeral?
Alive...
Just open your eyes
Just open your eyes
And see that life is beautiful.
Will you swear on your life,
That no one will cry at my funeral?
Just open your eyes
Just open your eyes
And see that life is beautiful.
Will you swear on your life,
That no one will cry at my funeral?
Just open your eyes
Just open your eyes
And see that life is beautiful.
Will you swear on your life,
That no one will cry at my funeral?
I will try to figure out how to post this vid and one of Nimrod falling in the creek. Today is magenta like our African Violet, soft and sparkly
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