Claire

I don't read a lot of poetry, which is a shame cause I often find lots of things to like about it when I do. The most I can say is that I'm a fan of Thomas Hardy.     Going and Staying                            I   The moving sun-shapes on the spray, The sparkles where the brook was flowing, Pink faces, plightings, moonlit May, These were the things we wished would stay;         But they were going.                            II   Seasons of blankness as of snow, The silent bleed of a world decaying, The moan of multitudes in woe, These were the things we wished would go;         But they were staying.                            III   Then we looked closelier at Time, And saw his ghostly arms revolving To sweep off woeful things with prime, Things sinister with things sublime         Alike dissolving.   A second favorite of his would be "Convergence of the Twain."

I'm not sure what inspired me to check back here, but now I'm all nostalgic. It would be so cool if all the regulars from when I was a mod poked their heads in for a little bit and we could all just feel nostalgic together.

Playing music with a friend in one of my school's parking garages.  

Scattered thoughts:   1. I'm in love with Korra as a person 2. Mako is the worst thing ever 3. I got so invested in the series that after I watched the finale I pretty much threw my room apart and had to go eat away my emotions

Blinking in reaction to something. I've never seen real people do that, but I have seen amateur writers include it in their fiction. Oyyy.

Nadie from El Cazador de La Bruja. Watched the whole series with big ol' hearts for eyes. I still haven't recovered.

This is a pretty old thread, but I feel like bragging about completing NaNo last November.   I'd had the novel idea fleshed out for several months so the only thing left to do was actually write it. Then, instead of toiling over getting everything right from the get-go, I just barreled through eighteen chapters or so with no editing or dilly-dallying. My advice to aspiring NaNo participants is to actually try to write something terrible so that a) you don't get stuck on quality when NaNo is just about quantity, and b) there is only one direction to go when revising your work!

Hey. I'm not new, but I figured I'd post in here anyway. I'm Claire, I'm 21, studying Creative Writing at a university in Florida and I'm about to graduate and subsequently fall off the face of the planet. I like creating music and Arrested Development and wasting time playing video games. I'm working on a book but it's a little bit crazy so I'm procrastinating.   I used to be a moderator of White Noise along with Petie, back when it was called Music Movies & TV. Those were the days.

Damn, this looks like too much fun. I wish I could afford one of the new games. I'll have to get ready to participate if this ever happens again.

[img]http://a2.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/39835_125115510868264_100001094486985_134218_4078291_n.jpg[/img] Name: Goldy Gender: M Breed/Species: American shorthair Age: Like 14, maybe 15, I can't recall. Likes: Watching baseball, sleeping, going outside and then coming back in and then going right back out and appearing at the door to be let in but changing his mind and staying out and then coming back in a few minutes later, catnip Dislikes: other animals. [img]http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash2/37354_118039108242571_100001094486985_101844_6238601_n.jpg[/img] Name: Charlotte Gender: F Breed/Species: Whatever breed of cat hides in bushes and then follows someone home and starts living with them Age: 5. Likes: Pestering Goldy, modeling, sometimes cuddling with people. Dislikes: Any human who is not a member of my family. [img]http://27.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lip9ipPO131qb40v8o1_500.jpg[/img] Name: Jonah Gender: M Breed/Species: Jack Russell Terrier/constantly full and unpredictable bladder Age: 2ish. Likes: Squeaky toys, rawhide bones, jingly bouncy balls, playing fetch until he collapses. Dislikes: Swiffer vacuums, other people, being barked at by a human (he always makes this terrified squealing noise, it's weird and sad but adorable)

I have like three different games of Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask at the moment.

I'm interested in participating but I'm not sure if I can commit with more than 80% enthusiasm. Sometimes writing is the hardest thing ever for me. But I do want to do it.

[quote name='CaNz' timestamp='1298080537' post='705100'][media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eK-dwEUx0vs[/media][/quote] I'd give it 8/10. I'm not too familiar with the original song so I don't feel like I can really judge it that well, but I did like the arrangement and the vocals. The girl is pretty damn adorable, too, and I sure do adore French people. (I may or may not have weighted the rating in favor of attractiveness...DON'T JUDGE) [youtube]lwPaSv2LjKo[/youtube] This song makes my heart hurt a little.

There's a lady in red with eyes feline green who came a long way from under the floor. Her cheeks cut with thick lines of rouge colored war paint, and a fire doused with pure gasoline. There's light, hard and cold. A barrage from the screen won't reach her thousand year stare anymore. She remembers the rain when the roof sprouted pores-- Dripping wet--cartridge storm--all the scarlet unseen-- and nothing remained when the flood ebbed away. Inside steel and ice, but ice somehow still soft enough for jilted bullets to char. She became a firework, a plosive fillet. As she fizzled out--an inglorious kill-- her blaze laughed aloud: [i]au revoir, au revoir.[/i] --- Squeezed this one out for class. We were supposed to write a sonnet, an ode, or an elegy, and I decided to try a semi-Petrarchan form. I will give a long-distance high five to anyone who can decipher it.

I've never seen a whole slew of movies most people my age were exposed to as children: ET, the Karate Kid (any of them), Back to the Future, the majority of those classic 80's movies like The Breakfast Club. There are so many I can't even remember them all. I don't know when I ever will watch them because I'm not very interested in watching anything most of the time. I didn't watch Friends (I've seen a few episodes recently but that's it). I wasn't allowed to watch The Simpsons or Ren and Stimpy. And when it comes to music, I frequently acquire albums of bands I know I like or think I should get into and let them sit on my computer for months before I even give a single track a listen. I have a lot of Beatles music I've never heard. I have every Murder by Death album but I've only really listened to one. And Neutral Milk Hotel is one of my favorite bands (In the Aeroplane is a masterpiece) but I still haven't paid attention to their first album.

[quote name='Dragon Warrior' timestamp='1296789769' post='704678'] Ah, you covered one of my favorite songs by Neutral Milk Hotel :] On the contrary I think you did a pretty good job. Plus, if you're feeling self-conscious about your versions lacking in quality, just remember that style of music prospers in lo-fi haha ;] [/quote] I'm glad you like it! It's actually the most recent recording I've done with my new equipment, so it's probably one of the best. I mean that my other covers weren't recorded as well.

As far as internet translators go, Google is probably the best. I've been using it a lot lately, working on some Italian homework, and for the most part it gets a lot of things right. It usually understands the different tenses and pronouns and whatnot, as long as it's not too complicated. I play guitar. = Suono la chitarra. I played guitar. = Ho suonato la chitarra. I trust it for simple things, but it's a good idea to double check. I think cross-translating certain things will always beget humorous results, though. I was once working on a silly RPG and I needed some gibberish dialogue, so I put a bunch of random sentences into Babelfish and translated them a dozen different ways. What I ended up with was funnier than anything I could have come up with on my own (though I can't remember any of it, unfortunately).

[youtube]E3Z1PXxI1qI[/youtube] I will never be able to not cry when I watch this. There's an overwhelming amalgam of nostalgia and awe that just kicks me in the chest every single time, and the music is just plain EPIC AND BEAUTIFUL. And I can't find it on YouTube (though I didn't look too hard), but the climax of [b]Inglourious Basterds[/b] is spectacular. If you don't hate Quentin Tarantino, you have got to watch it. For those who don't want to (shame on you): [spoiler]It's total Jewish vengeance on the Nazis as the owner of a cinema, a French Jew who escaped the massacre of her whole family by the Nazis only a few years prior, burns the place down the night of a big Nazi propaganda film's premiere. There's also the eponymous characters, the Basterds, who shower everyone in the room with machine gun bullets and even TEAR APART ADOLF HITLER HIMSELF.[/spoiler] What I like the most about this scene is [spoiler]when the giant swastika falls.[/spoiler] I read that it happened completely by accident, but it is just so perfect.

Right now I have Fleet Foxes' self-titled LP spinning in my record player. This is their newest song which just came out yesterday. [youtube]6mR8Z-gmK1g[/youtube]

I can't think of too many covers I like a lot, other than this one: [youtube]X2XzqL2xG9g[/youtube] Elliott Smith - "Because" (The Beatles). I actually prefer this version to The Beatles's, maybe because I heard it first. Elliott Smith just really cranked up the beauty in it. Now for something shameless: [youtube]AxmY-_7c9iA[/youtube] My cover of "Fool" by Neutral Milk Hotel. I do a lot of covers, actually, but not many are recorded well.

Florence and the Machine - "Dog Days Are Over" [youtube]sszAVSx4Wwo[/youtube]

Oh lawd. I haven't been into anime in a really long time but this actually excites me. .hack//SIGN was pretty much my favorite show of all time and I still have a soft spot for it, and the first four PS2 games. I love how it seems to have to original SIGN animation, with the glowiness and whatnot. I wish Yuki Kajiura did the music though, she really made SIGN something special. I don't get why they always recycle the same avatars though. In the games they turned Mimiru into Black Rose, Bear into Orca, Tsukasa into Elk, etc. Now they're turning Kite and Black Rose and Balmung into different people too? Hasn't this been happening for a while? (I wouldn't know, I only read one of the Legend of the Twilight books where Kite and Black Rose became Shugo and Rena, but at least they averted the rehashing with some kind of contest excuse...) I'll probably try to watch this when it's available, and now I really wish I still had my .hack//SIGN DVDs.

[size="1"]For this assignment, I had to select a newspaper headline (or radio, or TV, or just take any historical event in general) and write a story that happens alongside the event. I'm really happy with it and I actually managed to keep it under a thousand words, which was the upper limit.[/size] [center]For Emma[/center] There was no more air in the entire world. There was only smoke. Every breath was hot and black, fanning painful plumes of anger through his whole body. His clothes were on fireâ??his arms, his face. But he could not stop. Their mirthless laughter propelled him deeper into the furnace. He was going to find her, he was going to save herâ?? The sudden slam of the front door yanked Claus out of the inferno and placed him gently in the parlor of his house. The radio was softly crooning through curtains of static. His lungs were clean and the room was cool, and his arms were wrapped in thin bandages. The burning pain was reduced to a dull sting. The stench of smoke lingered, clinging to the wallpaper, buried deep between the cushions on the furniture. It would not go away no matter how lucid Claus felt. He refocused. He was sitting at the table with his back to the window, where the glass had been smashed out by the butt of a rifle. The glow from the setting sun streamed in, spotlighting the paper laid flat in front of him. In his hand were two pieces of a charcoal pencil. He couldnâ??t remember snapping it. He only remembered the fireâ?¦. â??Iâ??m back,â? called a voice. He pushed his glasses higher up his nose. The frames were taped together in the middle. He remembered the sharp-knuckled fist that had broken them, the stream of blood that leaked out of his nostrils. But he couldnâ??t smell the coppery fluid; he could only smell smoke. A few weeks after the fire, he went through the smoldering remains of his neighborsâ?? house. He hadnâ??t expected to find anything; he just preferred to see the ruins in reality than in his head. But lying on top of a charred piece of wood was a tiny black and white face, staring up at him. It was a photograph, melted down at the edges to a jagged oval. The fire had ruined everything in the photograph, except for one happy, friendly face. He lifted the picture with his fingernails, cradling it in his palm as if it were a living person. For now, it was. The girlâ??s smile was vibrant, even in grayscale. Claus traced the lines of her lips, her soft chin, her light-colored braids. They used to be golden. He knew her coat was navy blue, and he knew the ugly star sewn to her sleeve was the color of sulfur. As long as he knew, he didnâ??t mind that he couldnâ??t see the proper hues. But he couldnâ??t stand the big black dots that were supposed to be her eyes. He remembered staring into themâ??the real onesâ??for hours and hours, memorizing the exact shade of blue. It was like pieces of the sky had fallen into her eyes and stayed there. â??Whatâ??s that youâ??re drawing?â? His father had come up behind him and was peering over Clausâ??s head. The man was very tall and gangly. Claus knew he would look the same way in a few years, down to the straight yellow hair and boring brown eyes. Even now, he resembled an older man more than a he did a fifteen year old boy. He was already much taller than any of his classmates. At least, he had been the last time he saw them. Claus had not been to school in months. Not since the night of the fire. â??Claus?â? his father said. â??Emma. Iâ??m drawing Emma.â? His father was silent. He waited there for a moment, then put his hand on his sonâ??s shoulder. Claus sketched two small egg-shapes for the girlâ??s eyes. He would be sure to do them more justice than the photograph had. They deserved the best, the way they made him feel like he was drowning in his riches. Surely they had that effect on everyone, even those soldiersâ?¦that must be why they had taken her and her family away, so they could look at the eyes all the timeâ?¦. â??We interrupt this program to bring you an important news bulletin.â? Clausâ??s father rushed to the radio and twisted the volume knob, and his mother appeared in the room looking frantic and scared. There was a booming nasally voice, practically screaming with excitement. â??ON THE FIRST OF MAY, ADOLF HITLER WAS FOUND DEAD--â? That was all Claus could hear. The rest of the announcement was drowned out by the unbridled cheering of the two adults, and by the noises in his own head. There was a whole crowd in his brain, celebrating. The crowd was full of people in blue coats with stars on their sleeves. They were pouring out of a burning building, laughing and applauding. They were safe and free. â??Does this mean the war is over?â? he said when the shouting died down. His father gently gripped his shoulder, careful to not irritate the burns beneath the bandages. There was a radiant, hopeful smile plastered on to his face. â??Itâ??s as good as!â? he said. Claus glanced back at the photograph. â??And that means Emma will be able to come home?â? His fatherâ??s smile twitched ever so slightly. The happiness in the room seemed to dwindle as quickly as it had erupted. â??Well,â? he said, looking down at the floor, â??I donâ??t know about that. She canâ??t exactly go home. Her house burned down.â? â??But she will come back.â? His father did not look up. Instead, he looked at the photograph. Claus wondered if his fatherâ??s stomach did the same somersaults at the sight of the girl. The thought suddenly made him angry and jealous. He pulled the photograph closer to his chest. His father said nothing. â??Emma will come back,â? he said, returning to his drawing. He wanted to finish it before he saw her again.