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Geek in the Pink.Chapter Three8 MONTHS LATER :)More Like This
My time with Mello had taught me a lot.
Like that I need to keep him and Near away from each other.
And I also learned that Mello likes chocolate.
A lot.
He also never whined. He bitched. Or take it until he passed out or whatever.
For example, in the first few days of the month it had started to snow bad.
As in, blizzard bad.
And he had insisted on buying this special limited time chocolate that he apparently didn't know was on the market until the last day.
So we sneaked out at around eight. Of course he would choose a freezing cold time.
We had been walking for at least an hour. I didn't have the best sense of d
IZ ITEOTWAWKI ch1 Invader Zim- It's The End Of The World As We Know It (and I feel fine)More Like This
Chapter 1- The Beginning Of The End
It was another strange day at the Skool. Gaz was leaning on a tree playing her Gameslave 2. Dib was pacing back and forth thinking about plans to expose Zim to the world. And, as usual, Zim was thinking about plans (redundant sorry) to destroy the entire human race and rule the Earth as an Almighty Tallest.
Then, the bell rang and it was time for klass (joke). Ms. Bitters was teaching the students about the human genitalia, which sickened Zim. After class, a nauseated Zim walked home (duh).
"That class was disgusting" Zim thou
Let Me Be Your Reason-Ch 8Let Me Be Your ReasonMore Like This
Chapter 8:
Nine year old Timmy sat in the limo, looking out the window. He watched as countless of people and buildings passed by. Some of the people seemed to stare at the limo as it drove on. Whispers were heard of the Turner household. They had all seen the Turners symbol on the doors, a black crow with a snake in its mouth. Timmy's father had taught him long ago what the symbol meant.
"As we are like the crow that picks the flesh off decaying corpses, we will show no mercy to our enemies."
Timmy, deep in thought, had always hated the symbol and what it stood for. He knew his father's business was dangerous, viole
The FlameBeing a creative usually starts with perception and sensitivity. Artists and writers translate the world around them into a transferable language that takes their viewer / reader into that place, that experience, and gives them for one brief moment a sight through the creative's eyes. Not everyone is capable of abstract thought, to see beyond themselves, but creatives transport others, opening doors and minds in the process. Not limited to what they see, creatives reveal that there is more, and therefore strip away the self imposed limits of the person intaking the work of the creatives' hearts and minds. Media is important for this reason.More Like This
SIGNED PAPERBACK COPIES!I've got the books paperback copies in and they are ready to go! Click for Picture - BookMore Like This
If any one wants a signed copy, please send me a note, or comment here OR send me an email to jacintamaree@homtail.com.au
Book Price: $15.40 from Book Depository.
Freight: (As I am from Australia) Prices only cover ONE book. More books will cost more.
UK = $20
USA = $15
AUS =$9
Also ~ Does anyone live in or near Zimmerman USA? If you do, there is a book store called Reading Frenzy it has two locations, one in Zimmerman 1/2 block west of Hwy 169 & Cty Rd and the other Area Arts Alliance Building, Elk River. My book is sitting on their shelves, so if you go up to them, buy a copy and take a picture of you with the book (smiling of course ha ha ha) I will give you a VERY generous reward!
5 Tips for Aspiring Writers...The five most important tips for an aspiring writer:More Like This
My name is Jacinta Maree and I am just me.
This is basically how I am going to start this entire post. I am me and there isn't anything special about me that make's publishing an easier or harder goal to achieve. I wasn't born with talent pouring into my diaper and I sure as hell wasn't a top notch student, voted to becoming the next president or anything. I am ordinary and just like everyone else out there.
Publishing is hard. You're meant to struggle so don't feel disheartened because you haven't been 'discovered' yet. It's just a timing thing. It's meant to be very hard and you have to have a heart of stone to not let rejection tear out your insides.
The beauty of publishing is that even once you get your yes that's when the hard work begins. You are competing against a lot of louder and more popular voices out there, trying to jump up and down and wave your arms to get some attention, even just a little to turn your way. I am far
Character Survey - SelineMore Like This
FULL NAME: Seline Del'Ila
MEANING: "Seline" means "She who brings light". "Del'Ila" means "From the islands of mist".
NICKNAME: ---
ACTUAL AGE: 19
RESIDENCE: Mordou Manor, central Cerridwen.
AGE APPEARANCE: Actual age.
SPECIES: Eo'Sidh/Terinei
GENDER: Female
SEXUAL PREFERANCE: Straight
MARITAL STATUS: In a relationship with Callias, never gets married.
KIDS: Later gives birth to a daughter; Loreena
OCCUPATION: None.
ZODIAC SIGN: Aries
APPEARANCE
HAIR COLOR: Black
HAIR STYLE AND LENGTH: Waist length, very curly, often wild and tangled or put in a low braid.
EYES COLOR: Honey/Light brown
HEIGHT: 180 cm
ABNORMALITIES (TA
originality is overrated(...and that ain't even an original titleMore Like This)
With that said - I don't mean to state that originality in itself doesn't matter, because it does. It's just that I kinda get an impression that many people are obsessed with being original or unique, while hardly ever thinking about what those words can mean (and not just in a dictionary sense).
It's not a new or isolated tendency, of course, but since originality is definitely important in art/personal expression and since it IS an art community...
Anyway - the way I see things, I think there's actually too much emphasis put on "being original", while there's a widespread dismissal of the importance of learning what can make things original, which includes - of course, what else - studying the basics.
It's like this trend which probably everyone here has observed or experienced at some point: many people want to learn draw well, but they think they can master certain style (or a certain graphics program or some superficial guidelines
If you grew up in the 90's you've gotta read this!>Anybody under the age of 13 should not read this, and if you do, you shouldMore Like This
>not repost this.
>
>Just because you were born in '97 doesn't mean you're a 90's kid.
>
>It's not like you could remember the original Simpsons. I am sorry but
>three conscious years of the 90's just wont cut it
>
>You're a 90's kid if:
>
>You remember watching Doug, Ren & Stimpy, Pinky and the Brain , and Two
>Stupid Dogs.
>AAAAAAAH real monsters.
>You've ever ended a sentence with the word "PSYCHE!
>You just cant resist finishing this... "Iiiiiiin west philladelphia born
>and raised..."
>You remember TGIF on ABC. Step by Step, Family Matters, Dinosaurs, and Boy
>Meets World.
>You remember when, 2Pac and Selena died.
>You remember when it was actually worth getting up early
>on a Saturday to watch cartoons.
>You got super excited when it was Oregon Trail day in computer class at
>school.
>You remember reading "Goosebumps"
>You took plastic cartoon lunch boxes to school.
>You remember the craze, then the bann
My Other HeartMy Other HeartMore Like This
She was like my Other Heart,
This Child of Mine.
Wings always beating
Against some cage unseen;
Unseen but felt,
Striving foragainst some unknown,
Never satisfied.
Laughter, tears, adventures, tales,
Jabbering in my ear.
Floppy hats, giggles
Beneath,
Snuggled in my lap,
Arms around my neck.
Many years into the teens,
My Snuggle Child was mine,
Dropping down into my lap,
To talk tell tales
Of who did what.
Growing was not easy,
For this wildly yearning heart.
I cannot speak of the passage
Through the gates.
It was not an easy one,
Fraught with danger, tears and pain.
I could not find the cure
To ease h
The Gettysburg SonnetVersified InformationMore Like This
Middle American History Lesson 1: Lincoln's Gettysburg Address
The Gettysburg Sonnet
It was but eighty-seven years ago
our fathers built a nation on this land,
conceiving it in liberty as though
their slaves were just the same as hired hands.
But now we're fighting in a civil war,
that tests our will to follow in their steps,
and hold ourselves together, not apart,
to keep our country strong, 'cause that's the best.
We're meeting on a field where soldiers died
while killing one another for a cause.
The good guys are the ones who took our side;
the bad guys are the other ones I s'pose.
And though the world
Twelve StepsTwelve StepsMore Like This
One...
We used to have lotsa fun
Two...
It was just me and you
Three...
Now I have set you free
Four...
And hear from you no more
Five...
But this all about life
Six...
Where joy and sadness mix
Seven...
Nothing in the world is even
Eight...
Still, not all of them is fake
Nine...
The sun will always shine
Ten...
I shall leave the pain then
Eleven...
Moving on, make my zest burns
Twelve...
While holding tight on what's left
within me...
DaffodilsSoft, heady scent filled her nostrils and grass prickled at her back through her thin cotton dress. The damp of dew soaked gradually into her clothes and she tilted her head to smell again the hypnotising scent. Velvet like petals brushed her cheek and spots of bright yellow blurred at the edge of her vision as she cried for the last time.More Like This
There had never been much freedom, but now with her mother dead… it was the last of the spring days. The turning of new leaves. She was still young, still had her entire life before her. It was simply not as bright as it had been before. But she would weep her last, then return to the house to the pac
The Closet Artist Choking on the dust that had accumulated in the space behind the water heater, I groped along the wall until I felt a piece of plywood shift.More Like This
"Mark, there's something back here!" I called out, turning the board aside easily to reveal the darkness of a space between the walls.
"It'd better be either buried treasure or Narnia, because I've officially reached my bad news quota for the year." Mark's sardonic reply drifted from the bathroom, where he'd spent the better part of the day ripping out drywall.
The Preferable WorldThe Preferable WorldMore Like This
Nyla Atsel crept her way through the maze of hallways which wove through the enemy complex. She knew she had to join the rest of the Rebel Fighters soon or she would certainly be spotted. The rest of her four-man strike team had been killed and the Basilisk Guards were searching for her. If they found her and did not kill her on sight, she would most definitely be tortured for information. She could not let that happen. She would not betray her fellow soldiers.
The mission to steal the Union's blueprints for their new spaceship had failed. The intelligence the Rebels had received was false; the new plans were not even
This Conversation Took Eons "I can control you," he said, gravitational fingers lurching into my bouldered skin and pulling bits of me away.More Like This
I made it rain that day and killed three thousand and forty six people, just because I could.
"What is wrong with you?" his voice sank as the waters became weighted with people. He pulled the tides higher and washed the visible pain into the form of debris.
"They'll never forget though," I used the stars to point out my flaws and my current disaster, "because they're dead."
"Why do you do that?"
"What's wrong with me?" I asked innocently, stirring up another hurricane with my pinky.
It was all some sort of amusement to
upon leaving edensend me far away to whereMore Like This
the sun shines silver like broken
mirrors and wild things wander
through the night; places with
funny names and maps etched
from tree bark & lichened stones
that line up end to end for miles:
where truth is a birthmark that
scars us by, upon the coast
glass of wine- toast to the rising
moon sublime. dreams are in third
person, cupped by the creak of
wild woods that whistle, and teach
us what it means to be alive.
come, nestle up against cedared
fantasy & watch the birds fly south
for the winter, hoping for something
other than white sand & buried treasure.
save all our tragic souls from becoming
what we should
when gods weepyou see darling,More Like This
sad poems are like the plastic flowers
people still think are pretty, the ones you
can't bring yourself to throw away:
things just seem so much better
when they're not real.
Riding Her WheelCertain as the Moon I cloak my intentionMore Like This
in the calm dark of a new potential
and steady as Luna
wax round into luminous fulfillment,
A coin turning slow into the broad side
of reflection
the bright howling point of culmination
the here and now,
the ovulation
Cyclical the inevitable shed
setting down,
taking on again Waning's shroud
retreating into quiet preparation,
reflecting a wheel turn of perfect
deliberation
To The One Who HumsSome nights you sing screamingMore Like This
frantic drum of opal beetle wings
against the glass till dawn
dancing me fearful through the doors of dreams, fretful
with the frequency of vocal things
that insist on their freedom.
Some nights the buzz is just a hum
and the sleep deep as though you whispered
steady truth though your velvet flutter,
a soft vibration, not the screeching other
a moth dancing through the candle slumber,
exiting with the moon.
Don't crawl with obsidian bodies through my window!
Don't creep in the cracks of the wall.
Please, stay plush and soft, a vision carrier
Let me dream without knowing what's awake
what fears
Sicilian QuatrainSometimes the sun will shine too bright for song,More Like This
Sometimes the dead will overwhelm the crows,
Sometimes the moon will pull on strings too strong;
But days like these will triumph days like those.
{[ I, the Beholder ]}♥ I , The Beholder ♥More Like This
As I Ascended the Vertex of Geb
Casting a majestic starform as an Archetypical enigma
My Beauty is not a trivial expression of vanity
but a delicate inner Light showing through
Reflections on imagery illuminating a subtle progression from within
Former attributions which once laid claim with furious haste
Projections of shadows, betwixt the maudlin spectrum of obscurity
To Rectify an impetuous perception and
Relinquish commanding forces of opposition
Transmuting circuitry, Transfixed within the Primordial core
Cryptic insights amongst the Arabesque terrain
as allegorical interwoven fabrics of creation
Turnstile Locks of Lotus Petal Keys
Transmissions encoded throughout the psychic seas~
Symbiotic ebb and flow…
Acquisition within the perpetual momentum of Tremendous Affluence!
Aqueous Acquiescence as cymatic Polaris imbued
Spiraling intersections at the base of the Mount~ Visions on the Crown
Encompassing the Sacral Womb of Telepathic Modulation
CakeThe cake was disruptive, butMore Like This
I'm glad that it helped you fly
My own wings withered years ago
When I was overcome by the croaking
of the frogs down in the swamp
The ferris wheel you loved has
been disassembled then re-assembled
in exactly the same fashion
Only I and a few owls know this
But we don't speak of it
Last night I left my feet at your place
Would you mind very much mailing them to me?
I don't think I'll be going
to any more parties for a while
I don't really like cake
The Revolving StaircaseThe Revolving Staircase was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. The gold cogs and wheels, the jewelled pivots all glittering in the dim light, just as the ivory steps seemed to glow with a subtle radiance all its own.More Like This
Round it turned about its central pole – almost serpentine in the slow manner that it slithered upward, toward the source of the mysterious light that fell dimly around The Staircase. No one knew where The Staircase led to or where that light originated from. But all agreed upon the fact that the answers to both mysteries were the same place.
She had often wondered why no one had bothered to simply get on the staircase
Sta.sh
