Middy's Touch Exercise

Quick post. A bit of Middy's Touch written from the main male character's perspective. Hopefully more to come soon. This is the first chance I've had to work on this since summer, but it's just a little something I have as a spring board for the rest of the story. It's not a beginning, middle, or end only an exercise to get the juices flowing. God bless and slainte!

See Saw ridge is like a tomb before the sun rises. When I close my eyes, I let the coldness seep into my skin as I lay sprawled out upon the protruding cliff. It's a quiet kind of pain that echoes in my bones. It makes me strong. I feel the sinew of my shoulders and calves, even the creases between my fingers grow taut as they shed the black feathers.
Memories of being warm haven't nudged their way through my head for over a century. The sun can't touch me; fire won't thaw me. But when she caught sight of me in the trees last night at sundown, I fought the heat of a thousand Hells churning in my veins.

One Week = Poor Blogging

One week since my last post. My blogging discipline is poor, but I'm not giving up on this goal yet. A few brief updates on what's been going on with me personally as opposed to general ranting about everyday shtuffs.
- Met with my English professor today. I don't have any classes with him this semester. *Insert sad face here* We discussed the extensive portfolio I completed for my creative writing class last semester. He paid my work a few blush-worthy comments and said my poetry was excellent, that my writer's voice had a beautiful quietness to it. In addition, he told me to send all my poetry out to publishers. End bragging trip. *SQUEEEEAAAALLL*
- Was called a "fashion lifeguard" in the college cafeteria today...Yay for tall bar chairs and a crowded table full of girlfriends and lovely choir exchange students from Haiti!
- On a wacky note, I discovered I can do the "live long and prosper" sign with my left toes...No, I'm not a Trekkie.

I received a few hobby suggestions from a reader named Aithne (check out her blog!) and I might just be picking up painting and parody writing...maybe throw in a little photography. Thanks, Aithne, for the fun advice! Right now I'm simply trying to cultivate my inner creativity in ways other than writing. Which brings me to another question for you readers: how many of you would be interested in seeing me write a screenplay or simply a play with me posting a bit every week? I have a few rough ideas. Once I flesh out some solid plots, I will post them and you can vote on which one you would prefer to see transformed into a movie script or play.

Have a listen. A stunning song that's worth a few minutes of your day. http://www.youtube.com/user/MarianbkL#p/f/4/7hZpo1ZJDxM

Still trying to remain faithful by posting some new(ish) poems. Wrote this last semester; comments are love!

Under Your Bed

I'd rather you be a stranger
Than the person I'll forget.
Your blue eyes are the way
Out for me
And if I can't look at you with
Honesty too,
Then I'd rather you be a stranger
Than the person I'll forget

If I have to lose you
And if you walk away
I'll move on,
An iceberg
On the river of chilled love,
Half of me buried beneath the surface
Unseen, unwanted, but a deadly mess.

Please tell me
You'll keep me
Tucked under your arm,
In the creases of your blinding smile,
With the lonely dust bunnies
In the corners under your bed
For just
A little while longer.

I can take abandonment
Only if you scissor
My heart strings first.
Don't worry. It won't hurt
As much as you want it to.
As much as I need it to.
I'd rather you be a stranger
Than the person I'll forget.

Wishing for a snow day tomorrow! Take care, and slainte!

- Liadan

Monday Sometimes Treats You Kindly

It was a gentle Monday today. Gentle homework-wise, gentle weather-wise, gentle. Mondays such as this are rare; they should be remembered and treasured so the next time we throw a fit and blame Monday for all our problems, our insecurities, the contents of our hamburgers escaping the bun and tumbling into our laps as we pass grannies on the expressway, our disgusting ability to hit the snooze button half a dozen times, we can say, blame the cosmos instead of occasionally well-balanced Monday. Or, here's an idea, we could take responsibility for our own actions and blame our own hideous attitudes. When Monday treats you kindly you should quietly thank the second day of the week, and then beg him to tell Tuesday to be on his best behavior.

Enjoying this last semester thus far *knock on wood*... I honestly miss my lit/English classes though. Watch...once I start taking classes for my English Ed degree, I'm going to turn on English again. Love-hate relationships are always thrilling though, right?

I have to keep my creative juices flowing, no matter what! I've debated picking up a few new hobbies....But honestly, where's the time? Vlogging would definitely be a fun ride, but where's the money for a flip camera? No generous benefactors out there? No? Anyone? Then I have to think...How well has blogging actually gone? -------- Yeeeeeaaaahhh.

Okay, guys, girls, ladies, nerds, etc....Let me know in the comment area (PLEASE, SOMEONE, COMMENT. I DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE FROM MARS AND ANSWER IN MARTIAN LANGUAGE) if you have any suggestions or ideas as to what hobbies or fun/quirky goals I should set for myself this year. Any and all suggestions are a win, so if you think of something, just shout it out!

To conclude, here is a triolet I wrote recently. If you are unsure as to what a triolet is, have a look: http://www.baymoon.com/~ariadne/form/triolet.htm

Scene from a Movie - Triolet
This is a scene from a movie
One from the romantic-comedy that premiered last weekend
Down at the cinema with its buttery air, warm and lovey-dovey.
This is a scene from a movie
When you tuck my hair behind my ear, catch my hand, proving
That the dice sometimes fall gracefully into place and Fate will bend.
This is a scene from a movie
One from the romantic-comedy that premiered last weekend.

Lateness

Lateness is a time for sharing wildly unimportant strains of thought. In the wider world, 10:30 PM is not late...It's even early in cities like New York and Chicago, Venice, and Paris. For college sophomores in the Midwest, it's late. Very late. When you fall asleep on the couch at 2:00 PM with your mouth gaping open, head flung back, bland history textbook sprawled out on your lap, you begin to realize that maybe planet earth isn't the only one suffering from an energy crisis. It was an attractive snoozing pose, I swear!
Week 2 of semester four is nearly through and I haven't experienced the urge to crawl into a dark corner and die...yet. There's always hope, right? A dramatic psychological lapse would make for some haunting pieces, wouldn't it? I'M KIDDING!
Briefest of brief updates, but I promised myself I would try *said with a whine* to blog almost (see how I cover my butt and eliminate guilt? Multitasking ROCKS!) everyday.
So, I'll leave with these oh-so-illuminating thoughts. Some real gems were mined tonight, eh?

Rock lab tomorrow.....doh!

Slainte,
Liadan

New Semester (Year?) Resolution

Writing. Love it, hate it. Can't live without and can't live with it. Such is the bane of the English major/ part-time philosopher. Yes, this all sounds cute and coy, like something a repressed, self-declared nerd would ponder over a cup of coffee in the back corner of a Starbucks. Not me. This is just the phenomenon I've heard from my English professor and read in angsty books about self-discovery. Unfortunately, it's also the conclusion of my own experiences with that morphine-like art we call writing.
In case you have not yet comprehended the see-saw that is writing, it goes something like this: it's both angel and devil, poison and cure, sorrow and joy, etc...yada yada yada, blah blah blah. And that sums up last semester as well. Nope, didn't meet an angel or a devil; wasn't poisoned or cured; I did feel sadness (I'm too happy a person for sorrow, at least on the outside) and joy (to a degree). Of course, all this happened in the metaphorical sense, not the literal...
And I learned the true meaning of what is now, to me, a semi-evil word: generate. Generate, generate, generate..."What is to be generated?" you ask. WORK. PIECES. POETRY. SELF-MOLDING CREATIVE EXERCISES THAT LEAVE YOU LESS MOLDED THAN WHEN YOU BEGAN AND POTENTIALLY BALD FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE! < Exaggeration, but an exaggeration that nips at the heels of truth. And I loved, and of course, hated every minute of all that generating. Word to the wise: Creative writing classes are a bit like boxing with your instincts and style with your peers coaching, barking tips that are either useful or hurtful. You come out a little bruised and bloody, but you're hardened and aware of your own weaknesses.
It is a well-known fact that nature abhors a vacuum. This semester I have no English or writing classes, virtually no papers. There is now a vacuum in my life. So, if you read my blog, I pity you. For the next semester, whenever I find time, I will be blogging in order to fill the void. Did you forget that magic phrase? Generate, generate, generate! Even if it's total crap, write it down. I'll be trying some different exercises, and I would greatly appreciate hearing some feedback from any and all readers! In addition, I will be trying to post a link for any new music/songs that I think are worthy of dancing in a gloriously humiliating fashion in front of your bathroom mirror to, as well as links for books that only increased my appetite for words, and hopefully will do the same for you.
For now, the textbooks are calling. Enjoy the links! Write! And as always, slainte!

~Liadan
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HqZI7lJEKIA
Okay, so it's a rather old song, but a beautiful interpretation/rendition all the same.

http://www.amazon.com/These-Ten-Bones-Clare-Dunkle/dp/0805074961/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1264566517&sr=1-1
Just read it!