Tell me...what is eternity?

Cool word of the day

2006-04-30T20:54:49Z

http://dictionary.reference.com/wordoftheday/archive/2006/04/30.html

gloaming: twilight; dusk.

fragment

2006-04-23T23:46:39Z

rinsed my pallette in the sink
down the drain:
a wasted rainbow

haiku trio

2006-03-01T02:13:03Z

I.

on my bedroom floor
the sight of half-filled journals
brings tears to my eyes

II.

a flock of robins
hopping and flapping about
in twelve degree air

III.

a stray autumn leaf
on February's last day
clings to a dry branch

--Notes: I wrote the first one before bed the other night, and I wrote the other two in art history today (we were talking about zen, and I felt inspired, I suppose).

15 hugs

2006-01-25T20:23:30Z

I claimed Edward and Alphonse Elric at 15hugs :)

Title: The First Time
Author: Lavender Ana/altering_fates
Fandom/Couple: Fullmetal Alchemist/Ed & Al Elric
Theme: #1--Teddy Bear
Rating: G
Word Count: 622
Warning: There is no Elricest in this story, but beware of extreme fluff. The brothers are really young in this story.

Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of its characters.

The First Time

"Are you ready, Al?"

"Uh...uh-huh."

"What's wrong, Al? I thought you wanted to do this."

"I did...I do! But...what if something goes wrong?"

"What could go wrong? We have all the materials we need. All we have to do is follow the instructions in dad's book!"

"Yeah..."

"Come on, Al, what's the worst that can happen?"

The younger brother paused, then smiled. "You're right, Brother. I trust you."

Ed, the older brother, grinned. "Great, let's do it then!"

Following the book's instructions, the two boys carefully drew a chalk array on the floor. In the center, Ed placed the materials needed for the transmutation. He and Al then kneeled next to the array; they were ready to begin.

"Okay, Al?"

"Mm-hm."

"All right, let's do it!"

Each brother laid his hands, palms down, on the floor. Within seconds, the array began to glow. At first the glow was pale and rather weak, but as the brothers concentrated more, the light strengthened. Soon the room was filled with the array's bright, yellow brilliance. The mass in the center of the array began to take shape. No longer was it a random pile of materials. It had a head, a face, a body...

Ed's heart jumped. Al gasped in amazement. They were actually doing it, a transmutation. They were doing alchemy.

Al turned to face Ed. "We're really doing it, Brother!"

Ed smiled. He was just as excited as his brother. "You see, I told you, Al. We did it! Let's see how it turned out."

The boys lifted their hands off the floor, ending the transmutation. The light of the array faded and was soon gone; only the chalk outline remained. Ed and Al scurried to the center, eager to behold their very first transmutation: there, lying on its side, was a small, brown teddy bear.

With pride, Ed beamed at their accomplishment. He wanted to share this moment with his brother, so he turned to look at him. But, to Ed's surprise, Al's face expressed not elation but disappointment.

"What's wrong, Al? We actually transmuted something. You should be happy."

"Oh...well, I am happy, Brother, but...look at him."

Ed's gazed shifted to the newly created teddy bear, and he immediately saw the cause of Al's disappointment: the teddy bear was missing an arm and a leg. Ed couldn't help but feel disappointed, too. He could have sworn that they had done everything right. Maybe his measurements had been off...

An utterance of "I'm sorry," interrupted Ed's self-accusing thoughts. Startled, Ed faced his brother. "Al?"

"I...I'm sorry, Brother. I probably didn't try hard enough. It's my fault that it didn't turn out right."

Ed sighed a little. It was so like Al to take the blame. But Ed wasn't about to let Al feel ashamed, especially not for something he should be proud of.

"Come on, Al, there's nothing for you to be sorry for. It was just our first try, you know." Ed picked up the teddy bear. "Besides, he didn't turn out so bad. Look, he's missing an arm and a leg, but the rest of him turned out great."

Ed handed the bear to his brother. As Al examined the bear, his face brightened. "You're right, Brother. The rest of him looks pretty good. And he's nice and soft. And he's even smiling!"

Ed was smiling, too. He was happy to see Al's guilt disappear. "You see? We just have to keep practicing."

Ed's reassurance made Al feel even better. The younger boy was so happy that he threw his arms around his brother. "Right, Brother. We got to keep trying. And then, someday, we'll be real alchemists!"

Ed, while returning his brother's embrace, said, "No, Al. We already are."

Title: Reflex Action
Author: Lavender Ana/altering_fates
Fandom/Couple: Fullmetal Alchemist/Ed & Al Elric
Theme: #8--Bear-hug
Rating: PG
Word Count: 190
Warning: Spoilers for Chapter 53 of the manga. This one could be considered a little elricest-y, but it really depends on how you look at it. In Ed's POV.

Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of its characters. This story takes place when Ed encounters Al's soulless body at the Gate.

Reflex Action

"I can't come with you."

Al...

"You are not my soul."

It's you, Al, but...

"You are not my soul."

...you don't have your soul. Without it, you're just a blank-eyed doll that happens to be in the shape of my younger brother. But, you still are my younger brother!

You are not my soul.

But you don't have your soul. I have to keep repeating this to myself. Repeat this, and suppress the urge to run over to you, empty-eyed Al, and throw my arms around you. If I could, I would give you the biggest of bear hugs, affirming your flesh, not wanting to let go...

You are not my soul.

I don't hug you, but I wonder what would happen if I did. Would you just stand there stiffly, without any reaction? Or would you unconsciously respond? Would your chest automatically tighten? Would involuntary tears fall from those glassy eyes? If I were to hold you in a tight embrace, would your arms, in a simple reflex action, hug me back?

You are not my soul.

You don't have your soul. But would your body remember me?

Rewrite of MS poem

2006-01-21T23:54:42Z

I posted an MS-themed poem a little while ago. For my final portfolio for Verse Writing, I rewrote the poem, and I am extremely satisfied with the way it turned out. Like the original, this poem is an Italian-style sonnet.

Here it is:

Internal Conflict

The inner battle that I fight each day
Will never go away. This hidden hell...
This illness makes my body fight itself,
And there’s no cure for this unseen melee.
Copaxone is a daily shot that allays
The symptoms, but I still lack perfect health.
Uncertainty and pain I try to quell,
As this disease steals energy away...
Despairing as my life can sometimes be,
I never will completely lose all hope;
I will continue to fight on fiercely.
I know that in the future there will be
Some challenges, but I will strive to cope:
This damn internal conflict won’t beat me.

(Copaxone is the medication I take for MS.)

Musing

2006-01-05T17:35:03Z

I'm sure this has been wondered by many others, but really, how can an empty heart feel so, so heavy?

Attempt at Rescue

2005-12-15T23:53:06Z

For my last assignment for my Verse Writing class, I had to write a nonce (invented form) poem. I wrote one about my car (which won't start and will likely need a new battery >_<). I also read this poem out loud at the poetry reading my class had this afternoon. It's funny: when I *had* to write in iambic pentameter, I had so much trouble doing so. And yet, without even trying, the first stanza of this poem is in perfect meter. Go me.

After the poem I typed up the rules for this form.

Attempt at Rescue

It’s snowing so much…I let out a sigh;
this rescue mission cannot be put off!
I venture outside in the wintry air
to rescue my car
that’s covered in snow: white, cold, and piled high.

I trudge through the parking lot...There’s my car,
at least, I think it is. It’s hard to tell
with all of the snow...wait...yeah, those are my
bumper stickers. I
pull out my keys, try to open the car

door, but it’s frozen shut. I have to yank
it open. With the snow-obscured windows,
the interior looks like the inside
of an igloo (I
imagine). I turn the ignition...thank

God the engine starts (after it struggles
a bit). In the backseat I find my snow
scraper, my weapon against the fluffy
mess on my car. I
begin to scrape away the snow...careful,

now, don’t scratch the car...Phew, this is harder
than I thought! There’s snow everywhere…now it’s on
my gloves and coat, too. This is going to
take a while. Why do
I have to do this? ...this can wait ‘til later

There’s nothing wrong with taking the bus.

(Each stanza is made up of five lines, and except for the fourth line, each line contains five syllables. The fourth line only has five (it breaks up the monotony. Also, the first and last line of each stanza rhyme. The third and fourth lines also rhyme with each other, but most of those are off-rhymes.)

LiveJournal Haiku^^

2005-12-03T20:54:43Z

A very short Blue/Hige piece

2005-12-01T14:45:31Z

From the 52_flavours community:

Theme: #1, "Five Shades of White"
Character/s or Pairing: Hige/Blue
Series: Wolf's Rain
Rating: G

Notes: *Very* short piece, almost like a poem. Hige marvels at how so much beauty can be found in different shades of white.

"Shades of White"

The lively spark in your blue, Blue eyes,
The soft shine of your onyx-black fur,
The pearly glint of your teeth.
The indents of your paws that are left in the snow,
And the Moon whose glow surrounds, blankets you in her silver-white light...

Man, who knew there were so many beautiful shades of white?

I liked this quote

2005-11-29T04:19:23Z

Someone posted this on literaryquotes, and I liked the way it sounded:

If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry. These are the only ways I know it.

-from Life and Letters of Emily Dickinson

Wingless butterfly

2005-11-21T15:50:54Z

I had to write a mixed meter poem for Verse Writing. I'm happy to finally be free of iambic pentameter.

Wingless butterfly

you have become
a living Corpse,
not quite Alive
and not yet Dead.
I cannot Bear to look at you
because you can’t See me,
your Only child
Unknown to you...
with faded Eyes
and Lifeless form
you Languish and you Linger on,
a Wingless butterfly...

"The Island": Part 1, Draft 1

2005-11-13T21:23:59Z

This poem is supposed to be blank verse (unrhymed iambic pentameter), but the meter is off, as usual (though I must admit that I'm getting better). Anyway, here's the unrevised version of Part 1. I should let you know that it's not like my usual work, in that the imagery is totally different from what I usually do:

The Island

Part 1

Each night when he came home he smelt of blood
And animal flesh. He did not mind, though:
He was a butcher. This young man was doing
His family’s trade. The daily donning of
A grease-stained smock, the lifting of a heavy
Headless carcass, and the sifting through
Assorted gristly entrails, all done in
The chilly temperatures of a cold
Meat market…these had been his ancestor’s
Tasks; he did them with pride and diligence.

It's official...

2005-11-07T04:45:16Z

...iambic pentameter hates me. I'm supposed to write ten lines of a blank verse (unrhymed iambic pentameter) poem, and I'm having a lot of trouble. I know what I want to write about, what images and feelings I want to convey, but the iambic pentameter is really restricting me. ::sighs:: I should probably talk to my professor about this during her office hours. She already knows that I have a little trouble with meter, so maybe she could give me some pointers.

I have to memorize the first 16 lines of Paradise Lost for tomorrow.

"Things I Would Want to Press to the Lips of My Lover"

2005-11-04T18:59:48Z

Things I Would Want to Press to the Lips of My Lover

-a rose bud
-a tulip bud
-myriad flower buds
-a fresh strawberry
-a fresh raspberry
-myriad fresh berries
-my fingertips
-my hair-tips
-my lips
-my every part of me...

-Cross-posted to monozukushi

Second attempt at sonnet

2005-11-03T21:25:08Z

Here's my "Lunar Pantheon" English/Shakespearean style sonnet again. I edited it, but this probably won't be the final revision:

Lunar Pantheon

The Moon, the stately Queen of the Night Sky,
Her pearly glory blankets the whole world.
And her pale silver face is beautified
By lovely lunar maidens from our folklore:
Selene, goddess of the ancient Greeks,
With Artemis, the huntress strong and bold,
Kaguya, princess with grace and mystique,
And Chang-O, from Earth, was a daring soul.
To songs of wild wolves, they dance every night
And wear soft gowns of iridescent silk.
Their movements create shadow and white light
Which give the Moon her praiseworthy, pure look.
So each time you look at the Moon, please know,
Those goddesses are what make the Moon glow.

nihongo no kotoba/japanese words

2005-10-29T23:52:04Z

Tonight I'm posting a list of my favorite Japanese words. Either I like the word's English meaning, or I like the way the word sounds (I'll be writing the words in romanji, by the way):

-fukaku ("deeply")
-mangetsu ("full moon")
-bara ("rose")
-unmei ("fate"/"destiny")
-ookami ("wolf")
-yuri ("lily")
-hitomi ("eye"/"iris")
-hoshi ("star")
-kanashimi ("loneliness")
-sora ("sky")
-kiseki ("miracle")
-fukushu ("revenge")
-nikki ("diary")
-kao ("face")
-yujin ("friend")
-arashi ("storm")
-utsukushii ("beautiful")

Cross-posted to monozukushi

"I look with his eyes, not at him"

2005-10-29T15:58:04Z

I just really liked what C.S. Lewis had to say about reading, so I wanted to post it here. I saw it on lisnews. I suppose this came up since the first Narnia movie is coming out soon:

[C.S. Lewis] believed that readers should try to share a poet's consciousness rather than study it. "I look with his eyes, not at him," wrote Lewis. "The poet is not a man who asks me to look at him; he is a man who says 'look at that' and points; the more I follow the pointing of his finger the less I can possibly see of him."

Tale of Genji paper

2005-10-28T21:03:31Z

So, here is my Tale of Genji paper. It's about six pages long in Microsoft Word. Now, keep in mind that this paper is only based on the excerpts of Genji that we were required to read for class. I was also constrained by length. The paper was only supposed to be five pages. It ended up being six, and I still wasn't able to include everything I wanted to. ::sighs:: Oh well. Maybe I should write a supplement to this paper...

A literary work can both entertain and inform its reader, and this is certainly the case with Murasaki Shikibu’s classic work, The Tale of Genji (Genji monogatari). Lady Murasaki’s work tells the life story of the fictional, stunningly handsome prince, Genji, and his numerous romantic entanglements. The Tale of Genji, even to this day, is a thoroughly entertaining work, with its engrossing storyline, tragic characters, evocative imagery, and ubiquitous poetry.

The Tale of Genji can also act as a source of information. The product of an early eleventh century aristocrat, The Tale of Genji gives its reader some historical insight as to how the nobility of Japan’s Heian Period (794-1185) lived. Genji contains references to the Heian’s religious practices, political organization, aesthetic standards, and numerous other aspects of court society.

For this paper, I will focus specifically on what The Tale of Genji reveals about the gender roles (primarily that of women) and the romantic relationships of the Heian elite. I will write about the social context in which this work was written, in addition to what one can surmise about Heian gender and marriage from The Tale of Genji. I will use passages from Helen Craig McCullough’s translation, as well as from a few secondary sources, to support my argument.

Before I analyze specific parts of The Tale of Genji, I will discuss Murasaki Shikibu, the work’s author, and the standards of the court society in which she lived. The fact that the author of this monumental literary work was a woman is significant, since this is illustrative of Heian court standards. As Totman notes, “the central role of court women as literary giants in their own day invites further comment because it has occurred so rarely in human history”. (126) Totman continues, stating that women writers likely had an “opening”, since their male counterparts were reluctant to write in wabun (“Japanese-style writing”, or simplified character writing) and instead wrote in more complicated Chinese characters (kanji). (Totman 126) Since learning Chinese was not an “esteemed skill” for court women, women “put wabun to good use”. (Totman 115) Because they used wabun, women, presumably, could write in greater quantities more quickly than the men.

Court ladies also likely had “the leisure time to engage in composition”. (Totman 126) However, writing was not always a purely leisurely activity. There was a great deal of pressure on court women to “do what they could do to advance, or at least sustain, their family circumstances,” because “most of these court women were daughters of middling aristocrats”. (Totman 126) One’s place in the social hierarchy was imperative in the Heian court, and if a court lady managed to impress and “retain the favor” of the imperial family, she would be helping her family’s reputation and status.

For these court women, “success in that social enterprise meant outshining women in the same task”. At court, competitions were held to determine who had mastered certain courtly arts, such as poetry memorization and the ability to prepare and identify incense. (Totman 126) With all of the “learning and practicing” court women needed to do, they achieved “a level of mastery such as the world has rarely seen”. (Totman 127) With their “literate skills”, many of these women “turned to writing as a means of self-expression, escape, and commentary on their own lives and the lives of those around them.” (Totman 127) Murasaki Shikibu was among these women, and The Tale of Genji is certainly a reflection of the society in which she lived.

Poetry appears throughout The Tale of Genji and is an integral part of the work, as well as of the society it came from. In addition to the poems the characters compose, the text contains allusions to other poems. For example, when Genji attempts to contact the Young Murasaki, he composes a poem about how, despite the fact that he “left” his heart with “the mountain cherry tree” (a symbol of the Young Murasaki), he cannot get the image of that tree out of his head. After the poem, he comments, “I worry about the wind in the night, too”. According to McCullough’s footnotes, this comment is an allusion to a poem by Prince Motoyoshi, in which he worries about the night wind taking away the blossoms of the plum tree. (McCullough 97) Such allusions are extremely common in Genji, and were it not for McCullough’s notes, I would not know that anything was being alluded to. However, Lady Murasaki’s original text did not contain such footnotes. Lady Murasaki’s fellow court ladies, the main audience of The Tale of Genji, were probably expected to know at least most of the poems being alluded to, based on society’s expectations of them.

To continue on the subject of poetry, the ability to compose poems was a vital part of court men’s and court women’s relationships with each other. In The Tale of Genji, Genji and his many lovers exchange poems with each other. The imagery and the subject of the poem are of the utmost importance, since they are a reflection of the author’s style and tastes. Poetry is so important that Genji attempts to teach it to Young Murasaki, who is only ten-years-old at the time. In that situation, Genji writes a poem to Murasaki. After Murasaki reads the poem, Genji insists that she “must write something, too,” since in traditional correspondence, one person sends a poem, and the recipient of that poem sends another poem in response. Murasaki is shy and says that she cannot write very well yet, but Genji tells her, “You shouldn’t refuse to write just because you can’t do it well.” Genji’s insistence is perhaps a reference to how important writing was at court: just because one is not poor at writing did not mean that one should quit it, since one’s reputation depended greatly on one’s writing abilities. When Murasaki does manage to write a response, Genji makes note of her calligraphy. Although it is “childish”, the calligraphy’s “amplitude promised good things in the future”, and Genji muses that Murasaki would “do very well if she studied examples of a fashionable style.” (McCullough 111) One of the reasons Genji is so attracted to Murasaki is that he sees the potential for a refined, accomplished lady in her, and he sets out to bring out this potential as he raises her.

Just as the reader sees things like poetry are appropriate in a male/female relationship, The Tale of Genji also exhibits some things that can make a relationship inappropriate. For instance, at the beginning of the novel, the relationship between the Emperor and the Kiritsubo lady (Genji’s parents), causes a bit of a stir at the court. Although the Kiritsubo lady is a “rather insignificant lady”, she enjoys “far greater imperial favor than any of the other consorts and concubines”. Because of this favor, the other consorts make “her bear an increasingly heavy burden of resentment.” (McCullough 25)

The Emperor is very much in love with the Kiritsubo lady and has the habit of summoning her quite often. He also posesses “a penchant for detaining her while he lingered in bed in the morning,” which, as McCullough writes in her footnotes, was not typical behavior. “It was only women of low status who attended the emperor day and night,” whereas “a recognized consort…was expected to stay in her own apartments [unless summoned], and to leave the bedchamber before dawn”. (McCullough 26) Apparently, in breaking the protocol of court relationships, the Emperor unintentionally raises and lowers the status of the Kiritsubo lady at the same time: in favoring her so much, he is treating her like a lady of higher rank. Conversely, in his keeping her after waking up in the morning, he is, unintentionally, treating her like a lower class attendant.

Because of the Emperor’s and the Kiritsubo lady’s unconventional relationship, there is much gossip and resentment directed at the latter at court. Eventually, all of this resentful talk proves to be too much for the Kiritsubo lady to bear, and she weakens and ultimately dies. All of the gossip that came from this relationship is indicative of how crucial keeping certain appearances was at court. Not even those the Emperor favored were immune to such gossip.

By comparison, Genji and his first wife, Aoi, have a more conventional relationship. Marriage for the Heian elites was not particularly rigid. In such marital relationships, consorts often were not “resident in their husband’s household,” and “transient liaisons” were “common”. (Totman 126) Aoi lives in her father’s home, and Genji has to go there whenever he wishes to visit her. However, Genji and Aoi have a rather uneasy relationship. Genji find Aoi’s distance and formality to be “too much” and “annoying”. He thinks “he could love her if only she would make it worthwhile to talk to her”. (McCullough 96) Despite Aoi being a proper, ideal lady, Genji finds her boring and wants her to be more interesting. This desire of Genji’s could be conveying the idea that being beautiful and accomplished would not mean anything if one did not have an amusing personality. Perhaps, even the Heian aristocrats, with their set standards of aesthetics and behavior, enjoyed to see occasional diversions in typical behavior, as long as they were not too unorthodox.

The Tale of Genji contains a plethora of information about the gender roles and romantic relationships of the Heian elite. Yet, one must keep in mind that although Genji is a product of the Heian period, it cannot be trusted as a definitive portrayal of the time period. It is a work of fiction, after all. Lady Murasaki might have gone out of her way to idealize her society in her work. Genji, for instance, often seems too beautiful and too perfect. Were there really court men who were like Genji? Totman suspects that Murasaki might have written The Tale of Genji as “a how-to-be-an-aristocrat instructional text for male courtiers, whether callow beginners…or older men who all too often were self-indulgent…and unreliable”. (Totman 127)

Although The Tale of Genji should not be taken as an entirely historically accurate and inclusive piece of writing, it remains to be an invaluable source of information on the life of Heian aristocrats. In addition, from a literary standpoint, it is an exceptionally beautiful work and is considered by many to be “the eleventh-century precursor to the Western novel,” because of the way Murasaki Shikibu concerned herself “above all with human relationships and the emotions they engender”. (McCullough 8). One can easily understand why, almost a millennium after it was written, The Tale of Genji is still being read and studied today.

Note: If you're wondering about the sources in my MLA perenthetic references, I'll post their information later, because they're not in front of me right now.

I wonder if there's ever been a sonnet about MS before...

2005-10-24T01:54:17Z

For tomorrow's verse writing class, I have to write a non-Shakespearean style sonnet. So, I opted to write an Italian sonnet (where there are 14 lines, the rhyme scheme is abba abba cdc cdc, and every line is iambic pentameter). It took me about three hours to write this poem, and I'm pretty satisfied with it. I did a much better job with the iambic pentameter in this poem than in my previous sonnet (but I'm not promising it's *perfect*). When I wasn't sure what to write about, I figured I might as well write about my MS:

“Multiple Sclerosis”

Inside of me there is an unseen war;
It will not go away, this inner hell.
Because I know my body fights itself,
I sometimes wonder what I’m living for.
My energy is low; my balance, poor,
And I must fight to be in decent health.
Uncertainty and pain I try to quell,
And still my daily life can be a chore.
Despairing as my life can sometimes be,
I never will completely lose all hope;
I’ll try to live optimistically.
I know that in the future there will be
Some challenges, but I will strive to cope:
I will not let this sickness conquer me.

I still need to memorize a sonnet for tomorrow...

A sonnet in progress

2005-10-23T00:29:17Z

I wrote this Shakespearean-style sonnet for my verse writing class. Please keep in mind that this is a *first draft* of the poem. I'm going to have to edit it some more, because the iambic pentameter is all off (I really don't have a good ear for hearing the stresses on syllables). Anyway, here's my sonnet:

"Lunar Pantheon"

The Moon: she is the Queen of the night sky;
Her pearly glory, in silver, bathes all
And the moon: her surface is beautified
By the lunar maidens of our folklore:
There is Selene (at times called Luna),
And Artemis, the huntress strong and bold,
The Emperor’s true love, Kaguya,
And there is that one from Earth: Chang-O.

They dance to the songs of wolves every night
And wear soft gowns of iridescent silk;
Their movements create shadow and white light
Which give the Moon her praiseworthy, pure look.
So whenever you look at the Moon, please know,
Those goddesses are the reason she glows.

Footnotes:

Selene: the moon goddess from Greek mythology; her Roman counterpart is Luna

Artemis: one of the Greek virgin goddesses, goddess of the hunt, often associated with the moon

Kaguya: (aka Princess Kaguya, Kaguya-hime, the main character from the old Japanese tale: The Bamboo Gatherer (Taketori Monogatari); in the story, an elderly couple finds an infant in their bamboo grove. They raise the baby, who grows up to be an amazingly beautiful woman. Her beauty is so renowned that the Emperor hears of it, and he falls in love with her. Although she loves him back, she has to leave him, because she must return to her true home: the moon.

Chang-O: a figure from Chinese folklore. She was the wife of Hou Yih, a man who had, with his bow and arrow, shot down eight of the nine suns that scorched the earth. The Goddess of Heaven rewarded Hou Yih with a pill of immortality, but Chang-O took the pill herself, without telling her husband. Depending on the version of the tale, Chang-O either fled to or was banished to the moon. This is the story behind the Chinese Moon Festival.

OMGZ an udpate!!!!!!!!1

2005-09-18T20:00:42Z

It's a miracle! I'm actually updating this journal...*with poetry*. I know, I know, it's shocking.

This semester I am taking a verse writing class, and every week (the class only meets once a week), we have a poetry assignment. This week's assignment is to write six haiku:

I.

In mid-September
One does not expect to hear
The sound of whirring fans

II.

Tousled by the wind,
They dance to arrhythmic beats:
The autumn leaves.

III.

After a rainstorm
The air is permeated
By a clean dampness

IV.

Iridescently,
It peaks from behind the clouds:
The waxing half-moon

V.

Caught in mid-flutter,
The embroidered butterflies
On my silk pillow

VI.

Early morning mind
Attempting to reconstruct
A forgotten dream.

I actually wrote more than six haiku this afternoon, but I thought these were the ~~least crappy~~ best. We have to make enough copies of our poems for everyone in the class, because we all have to critique each other's work. I'm a tad bit apprehensive about that, but I know (well, *hope*) that I will get over it.

In other words, I think I might have a mild cold :( But, other than that I am in fairly good spirits ^_^

A love poem

2005-08-09T23:28:59Z

Well, it's not a "real" love poem. It's an anime one. It's for the Haruka/Michiru couple from Sailor Moon. It's a companion to the "Sea" poem I posted here a few months ago. It's supposed a shoujo-ai (aka "girl love") poem, but you wouldn't know that unless you were familiar with the show and its characters. You don't have to know the series in order to understand the poem.

Here it is:

"Sky"

Before I met you, I never paid the sky much thought.

Gray clouds obscured my view of it,

And my heart remained lonely and grounded.

It was not until I met you that I

Learned the true majesty of the sky.

Once I met you, all of the clouds dissipated.

The sky opened and offered a new path for me.

I looked up to the heavens and saw no limits.

The sky had given me the chance to be free.

My destiny is clear now; it is as rich as the heavenly blue.

I have benefited from the sky's magnificence, and now

My heart soars to the heavens whenever I am at your side...

Everything but a real update

2005-08-09T01:28:16Z

New journal title. New layout. No new material.

I have a short attention span when it comes to layouts

2005-07-21T21:45:19Z

Wow, two entries for this journal in one day^^

Anyway, as you can see, I changed the layout for this journal again. I think that I may change the layout more often than I post an actual entry...

A Blue/Hige story

2005-07-21T18:37:48Z

I posted this story for the community 52_flavours.

Title: "Blue's Blue"
Theme: (#11) “Your pretty blue eyes are just stained glass”
Characters: Hige and Blue
Series: Wolf’s Rain
Rating: PG~PG-13/K+ or T
Notes: This is my first post for the community. This is a very short story (more of a long drabble, really). In Hige's POV. Hige reflects on the beauty of Blue's eyes. Has tragic elements. (Sorry, that's not a very detailed description.) I hope you enjoy my efforts. And please forgive my excessive use of ellipses (...).

“Blue’s Blue”

Your eyes were the first thing I noticed about you.

Well, to be honest, I noticed a lot of things the first time I saw you. Your great body. Your shiny coat. Your scent, the very essence of femaleness…

And, of course, your eyes.

I’m not going to lie. I’ve seen a lot of pretty girls in my time. Girls who walked with graceful gaits and girls who wagged their tails just the right way. I’ve met girls with brown eyes, yellow eyes, gold eyes, even eyes of teal-gray.

But none of those eyes could compare to the beauty of yours. Your eyes were so...blue. They were blue like...the sky? The ocean? No, no, I wouldn’t say that. I’ve never seen a blue that could match the color of your eyes. Your eyes took the color blue and made it all their own. Not sky-blue. Not ocean-blue. It could only be called Blue’s blue.

And it just wasn’t the color that made your eyes stand out. It was...how do I say it...the spirit behind them. Your eyes were so beautiful, because your essence, your soul, shone through them. Your confidence. Your vulnerability. Your strength. Your loving, seeking heart. Your spark. Everything was reflected in those eyes of yours.

But now...

Your eyes are still blue, but it’s not the same. Your eyes don’t move anymore. You don’t move anymore.

Your eyes have lost their brilliance. They’re empty and glassy and soulless.

The blue of an empty sky. The blue of an icy pond. The blue of shattered stained glass. Your eyes are not Blue’s blue anymore…

I can’t bear to look at your eyes anymore, those dead eyes that no longer hold your spark. You’re gone, but I don’t have much time left myself. That’s a comfort. Soon I’ll be in Paradise, and in Paradise I will see you again.

We will be together again. And I will look into your eyes again, and I will see Blue.

Cross-posted to 52_flavours and dontmakemeblue.

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Your name:	altering_fates
Your haiku:	only based on the beauty of blue's eyes has tragic elements
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Created by Grahame

LiveJournal Haiku!
Your name:	altering_fates
Your haiku:	so much beauty can be a chore.despairing as my life can be
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Created by Grahame