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Getting to know meBasic Info:
- Name: Ver
- Age: 14 2/3 years old
- Birthday: October 18th
- Gender: tomboyish female?
- Ethnicity (spellfail): mexican, puerto rican, and dominican
- Occupancy: Part time student, full time artist and babysitter
- School grade: sophmore in highschool
- Relationship Status: taken
Info about me:
- Favorite color: blue
- Favorite pastime: drawing, reading, listening to music, writing, Skyping
- Favorite season: spring and summer
- Career in the future: vetinary medicine or biology
Description of myself:
- I have long medium to dark bronw hair. My eyes are a very dark brown. I wear glasses, most of the time. I am four foot eleven or five foot. I weigh ninety-one pounds. I have a short temper but very nice, as long as you don't piss me off.
Life of a Rogue"GET BACK HERE YOU THIEF!"
I ran with a meatball sandwich in my mouth. A human man about the age of 20 chased after me, for a short period of time. But he eventually got tired and I claimed the sandwich mine with victory. I run through allies till I reach what I call home. Central Park, best place in all of New York. I run swiftly past couples of romantic humans kissing and speaking in this sappy goo goo baby talk, humans with their young, and humans with their dogs. I look at those dogs on leashes and compared them to me. There are alot of differences.
I'm a mixed breed, low percentage wolf, who is also a stray. My name is Rogue, I wear a forest green bandana around my neck and I'm a thief. I have a long scar on my muzzle from . . . Uh-oh animal control. I down the sandwich and throw myself in the nearest bush. They didn't see me, but they had a yowling tabby, tom-cat called Chief in a carrier case. I felt bad for him, so ran out of the bush and howled like a rabid, well, dog. They tu
LonelyI sit on my bed leaning towards the computer screen, scrolling through every comment, every note. I sigh, there was nothing that caught my eye. There was only comments saying thanks for the faves or thanks for the watch and stuff from friends. I stare at my message page with hatred.
"Is that really all you have for me" I murmur. The screen gave no answer, so whispered swear words at it as I cleaned out my messages. Once it was emptied and jammed my blue earbuds in my ears and began listening to my favourite songs to pull me out of my shadowy mood. I refreshed the page only to disappoint myself. Officially in a dark mood, I scowled at the computer screen which showed my personality written all over it. My music, art, choice of background, and everything else screamed me.
I turned off the music and switched my earbuds into my handy-dandy I-pod touch. I refreshed the page one last time, my heart raced, hoping for what I wanted to show. Empty, fuck you deviantART mess
Chapter twoI slowly wake up realizing the sun leaking through my curtains, even though they were closed. I yawned and looked at the time, 9:37 AM. Athena, my dog, sat by the door waiting for me to wake up, she did that every morning. I had named my Collie Athena because of how intelligent she was. I had gotten her from the humane society where I volunteered.
“So eager every morning, Athena” I say with a smile, she wags at the sound of her name. Shaking my head with a light laugh, I slip on the light blue slippers that were under my bed. She slightly moves out the way as I walk towards the door, I grab the nob and turned it. Athena dashes to the door and heads to the kitchen, I roll my eyes and take a sniff in the air. Pancakes, eggs, bacon, and orange juice were this morning’s aromas. As I walk to the kitchen I hear my mom walk out the backdoor. I shrug my shoulders and continue on walking, Athena runs back to me with a piece of bacon in her mouth. I enter the kitchen to the sig
chapter 1She sat in a small room that contained white walls with free styled art painted on some parts of the wall. In the room, there was a dark chocolate wooded bed frame with a black comforter, black pillow, and black fleece, all with white polka dots. Next to the bed was a nightstand, which had a black digital alarm clock, a Nintendo DS, and a Kindle Fire. In the shelf, there were a few books and some chargers, which had formed a tangled mess of wires. Inside the drawer were mechanical pencils and erasers and lead, and most importantly, her sketchbook. Next to the nightstand was a bookcase, it had some more books and contained movies on the shelves as well. The book case was a three shelf dark chocolate wood shelf, it was the same color as all the furniture in the room. At the foot of the bed was her desk. On her desk was a desk lamp and pencil cup. Above the desk on the wall was a calendar with blue, green, and red markings on quite a few days on the month. Inside h
examining the worldI lay here on my back, on the couch. I'm laying here viewing the apartment that I live in with a different perspective. The wall has a long crack and and a slight bump. Huh, i never noticed that there before.
As I lay here and look around, I think of my life. What has happened to me, the good and the bad, and how they shaped my life. I can't help but to frown but smile too. They made me who I am. As much as I am self-consious and feel ugly, I love my personality. I love that I have friends like, being a tomboy, all the things I love, being an artist and a musician.
After thinking about the loves, I think about the hates. Boy, that list is long. I hated the man that ruined my childhood and is trying to ruin my life, I hate the misery my first crush put me through, arachnids (god they make me shudder in terror), and so much more.
Sometimes I'm angry, frustrated, hurt, conflicted, emotional, but I'm also excited, joyful, surprised, and happy in general. As much as I would hate life, I lov
A Few of My Thoughts on Atheism and ScienceFor me, personally, I have always loved nature.
I have found it captivating and breathtaking my entire life.
But once I came to the conclusion that my ideals were best suited to an atheist viewpoint nature became so much more incredible.
The massive trees, the outrageous insects, the fantastic beasts, and the thundering waterfalls; they weren’t the will of a divine being or a magical force unseen.
They just were.
Because science. Fuck you, that’s why.
And how cool is that?
How cool is it that we don’t NEED almighty intervention or a powerful deity to get all of this?
All of these colors and emotions and all of the cosmos and every blade of grass in the ground and hair on your head is just because it is.
Because that’s just the way it evolved to be.
It is so incredibly logical and seemingly random and entrancingly gorgeous.
No one put the stars in the sky, no one painted the butterfly’s wings.
Nothing told the rain the fall, or taught the fish
The writer in godAmong artists I believe there are a few things that unite them all. Art itself is complex thing and the making of it consists mostly of struggling to go beyond your own capabilities and postponing the wish to hang yourself. Artists make the most beautiful things; one might paint a work of art more beautiful than the reality, or sculpt something so extraordinary that you wish it were just a little bit more alive. Now some might want to argue, but written word is no different. We writers can sketch situations just as well as any painter. It is just through different means.
So I want to sketch a scene here for you. I will start with some silly lines and vague impressions.
Let’s say there was once a powerful being, an omnipotent creature, so imaginative and so creative that he had the universe at his fingertips. And If I must believe that which is written down in the bible explains that god created the world and mankind in seven days. Then we are a form of art are we not? We come for
The Magian store. ProloguePrologue. Hidden piece of the story of creation
Having read a few years ago, "Alice in Wonderland", I was suddenly filled again the emotions that I felt through this wonderful adult "children" story.
The other day I thought, despite the age and condition of the person, he likes toys. Yes, you may think it's stupid and too naive. But, in my opinion, the child lives in the soul of each person. Yes, some people claim that their soul very firmly settled adult and experienced people. Again error. In my heart there is no adult, there is only a child, but a little grown-up.
He sits in a comfortable recliner with a cup of cocoa in hand; old warm blanket carefully covers the shoulders of the child, warming them; dry wood crackling in the fireplace; dancing shadows on the floor of the quiet flames decorate big soft carpet; and only lie on the floor of the old toy.
Well, perhaps, you have presented me with the image of the child matured. But I want to note that each person lives his kid at
Blindly Accepted FaithThey strive to learn more of their believe. Trying to convince themselves of its teachings even if evidence is little. But I cannot judge them. I cannot argue. For I know as little as them. But my mind is not convinced. I require more than just spoken words from the mouth of a blind follower. Yet as I watch, so do I hear. I hear as they speak words of paradise, love and hope. Maybe that is the reason for their blindness. For them it is their guiding light. And without it,they are lost. Oh how fragile the human mind is.
Monday 4/14/14 Goodbyes 4/14/14
I've been thinking a lot about goodbyes lately. I'm about to graduate from high school and in my choir we have a tradition of doing this thing called a "senior roast", where we basically give our final messages to our fellow seniors. I haven't decided what I'm going to say yet -probably a bunch of mushy stuff- and I hope people say nice things about me.
I realized today, however, that goodbyes are never pleasant. I don't mean, "Goodbye, see you tomorrow." I mean,"Goodbye, have a nice life. I'm probably never going to see you again. Those goodbyes just plain suck, especially if you love the person. Today I learned that a very dear friend of mine might be moving far away. I am still hoping that they will not have to move, otherwise I will be very heartbroken.
Another thing that I will be saying goodbye to very soon is my childhood. I am turning eighteen in August and I am not afraid to admit that I am scared. I am not the person I pictured I would be c
ResolveOpen mental valves for clarified awareness. Phenomena of thought resonate from reality as distorted experience, as cognizance arranges itself as a living pastiche of its existence. Resolve in accuracy.
Fluent in SilenceMy blood is boiling. I am up in arms. I am foaming at the mouth. I am going ballistic. I guess that’s how I feel. I never understood either of those sayings, but I do feel angry as fuck.
We sat in deafening silence. I felt like I had to keep my mouth shut. If I opened it up, I’d say something mean, something insulting that would spark a conflict I would inevitably lose in the end. I don’t know why he kept so silent. Perhaps out of solidarity, perhaps that was his way of daring me.
When my mind finally snapped out of the state of nothingness I had drifted to, I felt his eyes on me and heard a distant mumbling.
‘Do you think we’re normal?’ he repeated.
‘Do you think we could be?’
Silence prevailed. My mind kept drifting into meaningless little details that not only had nothing to do with this particular moment, but were futile in general. I kept thinking about dancing gummy bears
Abandoned ChapelThe parish waits now,
the loneliness of corners
crawling outward on walls--
chipped away by the wind,
and held together
by silk spindles;
cobwebs align them like the membranes of memories,
the cut of a jewel in an broken window
against the sun
where beads of rain
gather in a mesh of strands
a new Mosaic
against the backdrop of a cemetery;
My eyes seek out the sermon
in close proximity,
paint no distance
between headstone and cloud;
elegies topple each other
in their climb to heaven
as light trickles
over the shade,
breathes a new glow over snuffed candles.
I feel the weight in these empty rows,
how a breath couldn't cease to be breath
in the midst of prayer.
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