Sunday, August 30, 2009

[Fanart] Dorothy and Quatre

I realized I just murdered my f-list with my artwork picspam....Sorry! I thought the cut worked, but it didn't (I'm still having problems with my posting, yeah). Anyway, to avoid such problems again, I will post one artwork each day.

Here's the artwork for the day:
Chibi Dorothy Catalonia and Quatre Raberba Winner.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Rant and Meme time! :D

I'm back! Not for long, though.
Midterms will be on Monday (and it's the same date of the end of my wilderness years, I'm finally eighteen!). I haven't written anything for LJ writing comms. I think this is my worst case of writer's block so far.

And I hate it! There's nothing else that can frustrate me than not being able to produce anything...just blinking in front of my laptop, fingertips resting with not-so-much pressure on the keys................argh! I don't like this! Anyhoo, there's nothing I can do about it. *sigh* Perhaps I should listen to inspirational music or read an old poem so I can get the plot bunnies reproducing again.

Since I have nothing to productive to write, here's a little picture meme. I got this from an amazing fanfic writer, .

A.) Post ten of any pictures currently on your hard drive that you think are self-expressive.

B.) NO CAPTIONS! It must be like we're speaking with images and we have to interpret your visual language just like we have to interpret your words.

C.) They must ALREADY be on your hard drive -- no googling or flickr! They have to have been saved to your folders sometime in the past. They must be something you've saved there because it resonated with you for some reason.

D.) You do NOT have to answer any questions about any of your pictures if you don't want to. You can make them as mysterious as you like. Or you can explain them away as much as you like.











Of Haywire Logic

Reading this little poem by Neil Gaiman quite cheered me up today. I woke up on the wrong side of the, well, I think I slept on the wrong side, too. We all know that every person has his own set of anxieties, (anyone who says he hasn't any is just fooling himself). I think I kind of magnified them a hundred times, and I let them clobber me, sending my logic haywire. My bad. I thought I'm better than that.

And then here's Neil Gaiman to the rescue. I've stumbled upon an excerpt of this poem a while ago. Reading the whole thing is very refreshing, and it sparked some hope in me, kinda. Here's the poem:


A set of instructions for what to do when you find yourself in a fairy tale
from the collection "Fragile Things"

Touch the wooden gate in the wall you never saw before.
Say "please" before you open the latch,
go through, walk down the path.
A red metal imp hangs from the green-paintedfront door,
as a knocker, do not touch it; it will bite your fingers.
Walk through the house. Take nothing. Eat nothing.
However, if any creature tells you that it hungers, feed it.
If it tells you that it is dirty, clean it.
If it cries to you that it hurts,
if you can, ease its pain.

From the back garden you will be able to see the wild wood.
The deep well you walk past leads to Winter's realm;
there is another land at the bottom of it.
If you turn around here,
you can walk back, safely;
you will lose no face. I will think no less of you.
Once through the garden you will be in the wood.
The trees are old. Eyes peer from the under- growth.
Beneath a twisted oak sits an old woman.
She may ask for something; give it to her.
She will point the way to the castle.
Inside it are three princesses.
Do not trust the youngest. Walk on.

In the clearing beyond the castle the twelve
months sit about a fire, warming their feet, exchanging tales.
They may do favors for you, if you are polite.
You may pick strawberries in December's frost.
Trust the wolves, but do not tell them where you are going.
The river can be crossed by the ferry.
The ferry- man will take you.
(The answer to his question is this:
If he hands the oar to his passenger,
he will be free to leave the boat.
Only tell him this from a safe distance.)

If an eagle gives you a feather, keep it safe.
Remember: that giants sleep too soundly; that
witches are often betrayed by their appetites;
dragons have one soft spot, somewhere, always;
hearts can be well-hidden,
and you betray them with your tongue.

Do not be jealous of your sister.
Know that diamonds and roses
are as uncomfortable when they tumble from
one's lips as toads and frogs:
colder, too, and sharper, and they cut.

Remember your name.
Do not lose hope — what you seek will be found.
Trust ghosts. Trust those that you have helped
to help you in their turn.

Trust dreams.
Trust your heart, and trust your story.
When you come back, return the way you came.
Favors will be returned, debts will be repaid.
Do not forget your manners.
Do not look back.
Ride the wise eagle (you shall not fall).
Ride the silver fish (you will not drown).
Ride the grey wolf (hold tightly to his fur).
There is a worm at the heart of the tower;
that is why it will not stand.

When you reach the little house,
the place your journey started,
you will recognize it, although it will seem
much smaller than you remember.

Walk up the path, and through the garden gate
you never saw before but once.
And then go home. Or make a home.
And rest.

I can say that these instructions can be applied in real life as well. My favorites are in italics.