tumblez?

http://heartstringsandsubtlethings.tumblr.com/

i have gone to the dark side.. kinda
i just like being more connected. But i will still post things here. And  i will try to keep both blogs pretty much similar


Hmm EDIT: I have deleted the two newest posts on this blog because i decided to keep this site cleaner than the tumblr. Tumblrs are messy things. Mine shall be the dumping pit; this should stay relatively neat and cool... from now on. Hopefully.

Golden Days

                The grass was long, and the broken stems of it scratched the back of her neck and tickled the backs of her knees. It had once been a wheat field, but now golden bushels of wheat grew in camaraderie with wild, thorny flowers and thick blades of grass with miniscule hairs.

                She lay with her hands clasped behind her head, elbows to the sky, blonde hair blending into golden stalks with her feet crossed at her ankles. The sunlight was warm, but not brazen. She was a bit thirsty; she felt the tickle of it at the back of her throat, but such was the way of that early summer.

                Her dress was maroon and plainly floral, stretching to the middle of her thigh and tying in straps on her shoulders. Her shoes were grey and old; practical slippers for running, falling, and exploring.

                She was sure he would come back soon, like he said. The river was not that far away. When the shadow of an overhanging wheat stalk stretched to cross her abdomen, she began to wonder.

                What if darkness fell, and still he had not come? What if he had never been there at all? If he had been erased, a figment of her fantasy that she must leave behind but never forget. Would she realize this and return home along the dirt path or catch cold waiting for him, accompanied only by Orion’s belt and her dear Luna? Or would she continue where the dirt path succumbed to the wheat field and walk away from the house?

                If he was naught but a dream, then she could create her own dream once more. She would find a new town, a new life, a new name. She would rely on the kindness of strangers but pay them back in ways that she could offer. They would take her in, in the cover of cleansing darkness, and they would be intrigued by her amiable languor. They would come to need her, and she would take them in. she could invent this life for herself, she could make a new––

––she heard crunching underfoot in the grass beyond her vision. Her eyes were closed; she subsisted upon the essence of his approach, the aura of his presence and the warmth in her breast accompanied by the goose bumps on her skin. His shadow fell across her face as he lay down beside her and held her. She opened her eyes.

Portrait of the Artist

In English class we are supposed to make a 6-word version of our own "portrait", just as a little exercise and reflection after reading James Joyce's A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man.

I'm not feeling too particularly happy at the moment. That is a blatant understatement.
I feel inspired, though, as all tortured artists must be. It turned into more of a 6 line at a time poem.

Heartstrings pulled her until she choked.
She thought she could handle the hurt.
She leaves us with art unfinished.
The moon will be alone tonight.
They always feed on her heart.

But I can't say that in English class. I'll probably say something like:
5 foot tall bottle of sunshine!
I only make pies and enemies.




At last, she slipped and fell.

Pangea

I was thinking of the stories I have written in the past and talking to some other writers when I noticed an interesting trend.
I am an amateur writer. I do not pretend to be an expert or a "novelist", I just write for the sheer joy of it.
One of the marks of an amateur writer is, when the setting is a world that is not the one we live in, the use of Pangea-esque settings. I admit, I tend to do this. Scratch that, I always do this when I don't use the Earth.
When you write a story, you sometimes have to incorporate the mixing of cultures. We can portray this by drawing boundaries and border lines; by making countries, dialects, accents, and nations. However, adding an "overseas" element adds a whole new challenge. Suddenly you have to think about how much globalization has occurred in your setting, how much the cultures differ, what reluctance they might have for mixing, and..... watch out... the fact that they have developed entirely separately from each other depending on which continent they originated from before things like boats and airplanes were invented, if they HAVE been invented in your story.
>:( *brain hurts*
No thanks. Not ready for that yet. I admire it when writers are, though.
I realized through this that one of my favorite authors, Maria V. Snyder (READ POISON STUDY, YOU WON'T REGRET IT), uses a pangea-esque world that just has some borders and two country names.
I STILL LOVE YOU, MARIAAAA!
oh hey...Boyfriend is here :] I'm gunna go

Survey Time

It's time for a girly survey. (Or anyone who likes guys :P )

http://www.surveymonkey.com/s/TK3LWTW