( the revision of division )

Winter Wonderland

Sat, 20 Dec 2008 17:17:56 GMT

So, it snowed.

We got about eight inches, and while shoveling the driveway out, I had time to reflect on the gratitude I should have for being able to live in New England, where snow wrecks havoc, but looks beautiful. Also, I took a ridiculous amount of photos.

The General Store. Yes, I live in the Quaintest Town Ever.

The Post Office.

Little stores, appearing festive.

Snowcafe.

Statue in front of the Music Hall.

Quaint church.

Aaaand... me, using this as an opportunity for a self-portrait. [ /narcissism]

Shuffle-meme

Sat, 13 Dec 2008 15:03:15 GMT

Mmm, memes.

You know the drill: pick a music player you like the best, put it on shuffle, and write down the title and artist of the song that comes up. No cheating.

How does the world see you?
"Poison Oak," Bright Eyes

Will I have a happy life?
"Always in the Fire," Sleep Station [ I'll take that as a no. ]

What do my friends really think of me?
"Ready to Fall," Rise Against

What do people secretly think of me?
"Cemetery Drive," My Chemical Romance

How can I be happy?
"Drunk Kid Catholic," Bright Eyes

What should I do with my life?
"Hell Has Come With Me," Sleep Station

Will I ever have children?
"Recycled Air," Postal Service

What is some good advice for me?
"Party," Clint Mansell & Kronos Quartet

How will I be remembered?
"If I Die Tomorrow," My Chemical Romance

What is my signature dancing song?
"I Was a Kaleidoscope," Death Cab for Cutie

What do I think my current theme song is?
"Brain Stew (Godzilla remix)," Green Day

What does everyone else think my current theme song is?
"Your Heart is an Empty Room," Postal Service

What song will play at my funeral?
"A Lack of Color," Death Cab for Cutie

What type of men/women do you like?
"The Sound of Pulling Heaven Down," Blue October

What is my day going to be like?
"Behind Closed Doors," Rise Against [uh-oh]

365 blog

Mon, 17 Nov 2008 02:22:18 GMT

These are some short things I wrote in my 365 blog, when I kept it updated (one of these days, when I'm not entrapped by drama, I'm going to sit down and count out everything I owe the 365 blog and backdate it all). Just FYI, these are the best of the bunch... most of it's dross.

MONDAY, SEPT. 8
My eyes open.

I see her standing before the window, the sunlight making her goddessesque, a vision, an angel. The smell of newness lingers, pervades, and I wish it would leave. Newness means birth, and birth means death, and death means ending. I have already reached my ending. She will never reach hers.

My heart beats faster as she turns, smiles, and returns to the chair I have slept in. Her heart does not beat at all.

I wait, in grossly stretched moments, for the feel of her mouth on my neck, the feel of my end.

My eyes close.

SUNDAY, SEPT. 7
Dear Peter---

I did not recieve your telegram. Damn the National Postal Service; if I didn't know better, though, I'd swear it was Bellingham's fault somehow.

But I'm sure you've heard enough about Bellingham's latest antics; that boy is far too rash for his own good. One day, someone won't be as lenient as the Hegemon, and he'll wake up dead. I could use this as an opportunity to rage about the declining morality of our nation's youth, but that would be pointless as I'm sure you share my views on the subject.

My cynical bitterness aside, I have missed you, Peter. You sacreligious comments and blasphemous humor were the light of my life, and now that they are gone, my only candle in this dark world has been extinguished. Write me more often, please. It gives me something to look forward to (and God knows I need it).

All is well with Iphy and I; the children are growing faster than we have space for, and I anticipate being forced out of my own home by their exponentially increasing size. I wish you would visit, but I'm sure that's impossible for someone in your position. Please, understand that I'm trying to understand.

I hope you are doing well in the field; I'm sure you will come home so laden with medals that they'll have to pitch you off the ship in order to set sail.

Also, Jenny's fine. She's still waiting for you. I hope you take that pointed hint as a directive to leave the service the next time they give you a chance. I am serious. No, this is not sarcasm. Yes, she really is still waiting for you, and no you cannot run away from that anymore. I know where you live, Peter. I will find you and marry you to her in your sleep if necessary.

Oh, and Bellingham sends his regards with poisonous venom, but what else is to be expected? I think he may be assassinated soon. I hope so.

Come home alive, Peter.

Please.

WEDNESDAY, SEPT. 3
The bruises on my throat have healed, but the scars on my arms will never fade. I like them; they are livid and shocking. I wish I were livid and shocking. They turn blue when I get cold, and red when I’m too hot. I used to feel temperature more than I do now. I can’t seem to focus anymore.

Too bad I’m not him.

I cannot see clearly since he left. My eyes are empty sockets, and they itch all the time. I walk into walls now, more often then I used to. Ofen thinks I’m crazy. I think Bue has given up.

He left me forty nine days ago. He will return in fifty six.

I think I am dying. My eyes itch inside. The world is gray and bland and the walls are everywhere I don’t expect them to be. Damn walls.

I dream every night of hydrogen forests and mercury oceans, with a sky the color of dust. I think about him more than anything, more than everything, more than nothing and no one and neverland. I can’t stop crying.

I cannot

I cannot

I cannot

I cannot forget his face as he cut me down.

THIS IS WHUT I DID OVER THE SUMMER.

Sun, 16 Nov 2008 12:55:08 GMT

Remember all my bitching about artschool projects? Here's my final project for Comic Art. Nine thousand years late, anyway.

Page One
Page Two
Page Three
Page Four
Page Five
Page Six
Page Seven
Page Eight
Page Nine
Page Ten

I realize it gets progressively more shoddy as it goes on... a testament to my laziness and sleep deprivation, I guess. It makes about zero sense, too, for what that's worth.

LOL I START BEING ALL ACTIVE-LIKE AGAIN MMKAY?

= AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA =

Mon, 21 Jul 2008 01:52:58 GMT

/manical laughter

Now, you may wonder, why is Hortie laughing manically? Well, my dear fellow, there are several reasons.

I saw Dark Knight on Friday, and it surpassed its hype with MORE COLORS THAN THE VISIBLE SPECTRUM HAS TO OFFER.
One of the previews for Dark Knight was WATCHMEN. Check it, WATCHMEN. OH YEAH. 03/06/09, baby, the goose drank wine.
I finished my comic ~~masterpiece~~ midterm tonight, woot. NOT FAILING IS YAY.
I've been comandeered into running my local ('local' meaning 'hometown') drama club's following-spotlight (follow-spot). This means that after spending from 9AM-4PM in pre-college, I leave for my hometown (40 minutes away) and stay there till 10PM in the evening, and then drive back to collegeland so I can wake up and do it again.
Repeat reason 4 for EVERY NIGHT THIS WEEK WTFLOLNOTFUNNY.
I have realized that reasons 4 and 5 mean I will have exactly NEGATIVE time to do my homework. No sleeping is NOT YAY.
This weekend is ALSO PRODUCTION, so again, NO SLEEP. wtfsrsnofunnies.

.... I RLLY NEVER SHOULD HAVE SIGNED UP FOR THE ALUMNI PRODUCTION AT MY HIGH SCHOOL. Especially since there are no techies and K got shanghaied into stage-crew, leaving me and Katy in the ceiling with AN EMPTY SPOTLIGHT LOL HOW CAN THIS WORK? It can't, that's right

= something new : REVISED =

Fri, 18 Jul 2008 03:19:15 GMT

| The Original | for comparison

New things are tough for me, and I don't mind admitting it straight up.

I sleep on the same side of the bed, hang my clothes in the same order, even eat the same foods just for the sake of order. It's stable. It's easy. And who doesn't like things the easy way, y'know?

Regardless.

Take it from me: when a boy comes crashing through your living room window, you can kiss order and stability goodbye.

| The Revision | because going that far wasn't far enough

"What the--- ?!"

List for me all the phrases you might use when encountering a difficult problem. Say, for example, you stub your toe, or break a nail, and tell me what you might say. What the hell, what the fuck, goddamn it, what the shit, the list goes on.

Now imagine a boy--- no, man--- has come crashing through your window, and now lies bleeding on your floor. Staining your carpet. What might you say now?

As you can clearly tell, words just don't cover it.

<< || >>
I woke up, and it was a normal day. I made my bed (left side folded down, corners tight), ate breakfast (thursday, that means toast with artificial butter and orange juice), and went to work (double shifts at the cafe below my apartment, god is it a nightmare but that's the way college works). I expected to come home and do my European History essay till seven and then watch the new How It's Made episode.

The important phrase there being 'expected to'.

I actually came home, removed my apron and my shoes and put them in the closet (apron on the left hook, shoes to the right side of the door), and went into the living room to turn on the television---

---and then the window (the one that's as wide as my entire living room and probably cost more than I'd make in ten years with a real job) exploded into thousands and thousands of fragments of safety glass, littering all over my living room. My neat, tidy, orderly, decent, well-decorated living room covered in little chunks of safety glass, rolling into every corner, completely impossible to vacuum, my god, I'd be finding safety glass for years to come, and how in the hell was I going to replace that window---

Except, again, I thought too soon. Because I didn't just have safety glass pieces littering my floor--- I had a man draping himself on my floor and bleeding into my carpet.

This is not a situation I had any kind of protocal for.

I had protocal for everything--- for breakups, for makeups, for when to eat and when to sleep, for when to work and when to play; I did not have any kind of routine or rule to cover 'what to do when men come crashing through your living room windows and don't even have the courtesy to be awake afterwards so they can tell you what to do about it.'

So for about ten minutes I just stood there, my mind skipping over and over like a broken CD player. There's glass on the floor, be a nightmare to clean up--- shit, there's a man on the floor, what should I do? How do you clean up glass--- how can I pay for that window--- what can I do about that man--- maybe he died--- my landlord's going to kill me--- how can I pay for that window--- there's glass on the floor, be a nightmare to clean up---

Until he moved. It wasn't much, but twisting your head away from the floor and groaning is definetely movement.

Somehow, knowing he was alive made the knowledge that he must be injured more pertinant to real life, more relevant to what to do next. I leaned down and touched his head, tenetively, then laid my fingers against his neck, trying to find a pulse. But I'd never taken a CPR class, and I'd never really learned any serious First Aid, so I couldn't feel anything--- but I thought back to all the TV dramas I'd ever seen and realized that the Handsome Hero always gently lifted the Injured Sidekick to bed and kept a vigil over him until he recovered.

I am no Handsome Hero, but I managed to kind of half-drag Bleeding Floor Guy into my bedroom and roll him onto my neatly made bed. So he could bleed all over my sheets instead of bleeding all over my floor. Which begged the question--- how to stop bleeding? Pressure helped, right? Right?

I used an Ace Bandage I kept under the sink to tie off the long cut on his arm, and, after a discreet check, realized that he had no other wounds. Then I staggered off into the kitchen to ponder the ruination of my orderly universe.

<< || >>
There were so many questions, and so few answers. Like, How did Bleeding Floor Guy get a long cut on his arm from breaking through a safety glass window? Which, in turn, prompted the question, How did Bleeding Floor Guy manage to crash through my window in the first place? Which begged the question, Why didn't Mr. Sullivan hear the window shatter and come up to kick me out onto the street? Which lead me right back to question one, How did Bleeding Floor Guy get a long cut on his arm from breaking through a safety glass window?

I sat up all night, mostly because I didn't have a bed, and partly because the living room had a gaping hole where the window used to be, and I didn't want to be in there when the next man came flying in--- because things happened in constant, predictable pattern. History repeats itself, you know?

Except, there was no precedent for this.

I stayed up with my thoughts all night, jumping at the slightest creak, and almost pissing myself when That Bitch in 919 came home at 2AM singing drunkenly. And then, just when the sun was breaking over the horizon, I heard a stir in my bedroom.

Bleeding Floor Guy was sitting up in bed, peeling off the Ace bandage I'd so carefully tied on.

"Hey! What--- you, that's--- you'll bleed to death!"

But he didn't seem in any danger of bleeding to death; in fact, there was no long cut on his arm anymore. Actually, there wasn't even a scar. While I stood there, my eyes ready to fall out of my head, he pushed back the covers and swung out of bed, testing his feet on the floor.

"Look, it's not that I'm not grateful---"

"If you have any sense of decency in you, can you please tell me what's going on?"

"About that," he said, turning his head away. "You see, I... it's not easy to explain. And you'd probably be happier not knowing."

I might have been happier not knowing--- I'm not a very curious person. I'm fairly content to just take the world at face value and damn complicated explanations and difficult questions. So long as I can repeat my patterns over and over, I don't really care if there's a deep moral significance to rescuing strangers and defining oneself. But I'm also kind of a greedy person, and from the minute Bleeding Floor Guy sat up in bed, I didn't want him to leave.

He was beautiful in the way only men can be; angular and perfect, like a Michaelangelo sculpture except not white and statuesque, slender and tanned and soft-looking. Maybe if he told me his story, I could nod and pretend to believe and just keep looking and looking and looking--- and maybe somehow this could work out... maybe.

"Try me."

He levered himself off the bed and stood before me. It was only then that I finally took in the triangular shapes attached to his head, shapes that weren't hair and that my eyes told me were ears, except they couldn't be---

"They are," he confirmed, reading my mind. "It's... I told you, you'd be happier not knowing."

"I think... I'd better sit down."

"You'd better."

A Note On The Above: It's not done yet, but I thought I'd post the first part since it's getting to the 'ridiculously long' point. And because I want to draw Bleeding Floor Guy and Narrator. I still haven't named them. I'm bad.

= rite, gondala man =

Wed, 16 Jul 2008 01:57:00 GMT

Okay, this is not of any importance, except for people who care about my RL.

THAT BEING SAID, TODAY WAS AMAZING!

My, my friend F, F's roomate C, and our mutual friend H all went to the college library to do our homework (and, for reference, the library is in the same building as the dorms). I finished all my homework from Comic Art for the weekend (woot, five pages inked and ready for tones!) and was lyke, "I saw this really awesome sweatshirt at the mall, Imma gonna go and buy it." So off I toddled to the mall--- only to get lost and end up five blocks from anywhere and surrounded by public transportation I knew nothing about. So I walked all the way back to the library building and was all, "F, I lost the mall and I can't find it."

F: "Well, I was gonna go and buy a purse at Forever21, so I'll come with you. Besides, I need a break from comics. I think I'll eat at the mall."

C: "I wanna come, but I have no money. D:"

Me: "I'll buy you dinner!"

H: "I can't go, I must finish my homework!"

So off we went. And we found the mall (completely in the other direction from the way I went), and I got my sweatshirt (with $15 in quarters) and a cute wallet, and F got her purse, and then we went to the Mac store, where F was all "lalalalalala" to the clerk guy and he was all, "I'm not qualified to provide that kind of help," and F was all, "You're the second-meanest nice person I've ever met who was a store clerk." Yes, direct quote.

And then we left and we were walking home along the canal, and singing "Piano Man"... and then F saw the gondala man. F has a thing for gondala men. Rlly. So she was all, "HEY GONDALA MAN!" and he was all, "K-WHU?" And then they proceeded to discuss funny things and gondala-reservations. And while the gondala man and his friend Bonicello were poling over to our side of the river, F, C, me, and the gondala men were all singing "Piano Man" together. And the gondala man gave us a brochure even though we could never even remotely afford him. Rlly.

And that was my day and it was amazing funness, and I wanted to record it for posterity, because it's the best day I've had yet (even including last Friday).

= meme time =

Wed, 02 Jul 2008 12:17:38 GMT

THREE NAMES YOU GO BY:
1. Meaghan
2. Meg
3. Turtle

THREE SCREEN NAMES YOU HAVE HAD:
1. ladystarwanderer
2. rathokasian
3. dismal ubiquity

THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
1. Eyes
2. Hair
3. Hands

THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU DON’T LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
1. Fat
2. Feet
3. Ears

THREE PARTS OF YOUR HERITAGE:
1. English
2. Irish
3. Scottish

THREE THINGS THAT SCARE YOU:
1. Failure
2. Responsibility
3. Sharing secrets

THREE OF YOUR EVERYDAY ESSENTIALS:
1. Bike
2. Book
3. Sketchpad

THREE THINGS YOU ARE WEARING NOW:
1. Brown sneakers
2. A&W Shirt
3. Glasses

THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE BANDS OR MUSICAL ARTISTS:
1. Blue October
2. Sleep Station
3. Souhime

THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE SONGS (RIGHT NOW):
1. She's My Ride Home — Blue October
2. Gibusu — Souhime
3. Doki Doki Waku Waku — Ouran Highschool Host Club Soundtrack

THREE THINGS YOU WANT IN A RELATIONSHIP:
1. Respect
2. Good humor
3. ???

TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE, IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER:
1. I'm overweight
2. I can sing really well
3. I'm tone-deaf

THREE PHYSICAL THINGS ABOUT THE PREFERRED SEX THAT APPEAL TO YOU:
1. ???
2. ???
3. ???

THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE HOBBIES:
1. Drawing/comics
2. Writing/stories
3. Reading

THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO REALLY BADLY RIGHT NOW:
1. MAKE THUNDERBIRD WORK KTHNX.
2. Drink my too-hot tea.
3. Go to artschool.

THREE CAREERS YOU’RE CONSIDERING/YOU’VE CONSIDERED:
1. Librarian
2. Comic artist
3. English teacher

THREE PLACES YOU WANT TO GO ON VACATION:
1. Italy
2. Japan
3. Washington, D. C.

THREE NAMES YOU LIKE:
1. June
2. Aldous
3. Victor

THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE:
1. Write something worth reading
2. FINISH A COMIC GODDAMN
3. Learn how to draw right

THREE WAYS THAT YOU ARE STEREOTYPICALLY A GIRL:
1. I like to paint my toenails
2. I'm always trying to multitask
3. ...I wear skirts?

THREE WAYS THAT YOU ARE STEREOTYPICALLY A BOY/GIRL (OPPOSITE SEX):
1. I hate romantic-comedy shit
2. I have really short hair (I guess that could go either way, but stfu)
3. I love comic books

= on the value of things, and the beginning of something new =

Sun, 29 Jun 2008 23:33:11 GMT

The Youth of Things

I've always liked things new.

I mean, I like things old, too — don't get me wrong. There is a magic in creaking antique stores, a spell cast by the flickering of dust motes in the fading sun. Old books smell like perfume, their yellowed pages an enchantment unto themselves. But.

(there's always a but, isn't there?)

I like things new.

Does it make me a bad, materialistic person that I love unwrapping things newly bought and stacking them in their place? Is it a terrible thing that it gives me joy to buy things, and then make room for them (as opposed to merely replacing things)?

I love things that are unblemished, things that are untouched. Things that have yet to be used, abused, neglected, discarded, destroyed. I love the way they smell, the way they feel (smooth, polished, like the sleek fur of a jungle leopard who has yet to hunt). There is a heady charm to unwrapping things, the crinkle of sheer plastic and the tear of cardboard backing. I love to touch my things, to rearrange them, to restack them in the wrong order, so I might have a chance to put them to rights. Perhaps this trait of mine, the tendancy to enjoy things (and the endless rearranging of things newly bought in their neat plastic container), is not a good thing. Perhaps.

And perhaps it is a good thing to enjoy the feeling of things while they are new. Because youth only comes once, to people and things alike.

Something New

New things are tough for me, and I don't mind admitting it straight up.

I can't accustom myself to a change of routine, unless I have a complete change of enviroment to accompany it. I sleep on the same side of the bed, hang my clothes in the same order, even eat the same foods just for the sake of order. It's stable. It's easy. And who doesn't like things the easy way, y'know?

Regardless.

Take it from me: when a boy comes crashing through your living room window, you can kiss order and stability goodbye.

The End of A Beginning

She stands there, only an outline against the moon. He wants to go to her, to hold her, but the iron in her back makes such tomfoolery impossible.

"Tomorrow I die," she tells him, and her eyes are the only color in the egg-white of her face. He wants to say, I don't care, please, let tonight be the best night of my life (if not yours)—

But the iron in her face gives thoughts like that a quiet, merciless death.

"I don't want you to die."

"Well, I don't want to die, so that makes two of us." Her face could be smiling, or so he wants to think.

"No, that's not what I mean— I mean, you know, I'll do anything. To save you. I'll-I'll–"

"I'm not a fairytale princess made of ether and ghosts; all the wishing in the world won't stop my cycle from ending tomorrow at dawn. I can't stop it anymore than you can... please, understand." Here she begs, and she doesn't want to beg (hates to beg) but there's no other way to say what needs saying. "You can't end this curse with a kiss, or a dragon's head. I'm going to die every month for the rest of history, and every time I come flailing up out of the water, I won't remember anything from previous cycles. It's how my people have done things. For always."

Here she turns from the moon, and the pond, and comes to him and now he's holding her (just like he wanted) and her fingers are twining in his and she's crying, oh she's crying–

"I'll be here," he croaks out. "I'll make it happen. I'll be there for every cycle, every time. I won't miss even one. You'll never forget, because I'll be there every time."

She sits back, on her heels, and regards him cooly. "So your life will end here, will it? You'll stick in this no-name town, in this no-name place, cooling your heels until finally your cycle is up, too?"

"It's worth it. It is."

She turns away once more, and he can't read the expression on her face. "I'll never understand you. Never. Any of you, you're all mad. Don't you see!?" Her voice rising in passion, she pushes him over, long fingers grasping at his jacket, desperate to impart her meaning. "I'm going to die. Every month of every year of every decade of every century— you fool, you're going to have to watch me die over and over and over until you stupid, idiot heart explodes!"

"I... I'm going to wait. You can't stop me."

"No," she says, laying her head against his chest, her anger spent. "No, I can't. That's beyond my power. But I can beg. And I will." Her voice rose, and she assumed the aspect of command he saw the other day when she told him not to kill the aur. "Victor Uther Villesson, I command you to run as though the hounds of hell chase you. I command you to leave this town, this night, and never return– never, never never." The imperiousness fell out of her tone. "Did that work?"

"No."

"I see. Well, I've done my best."

And now it's his turn to smile, and take her in his arms, and make this the first night in a long line of nights that he will remember until the day he dies.

... This is the last post of the day, I assure you. No more prattling for your friends' page, I swear.

No, really.

= another meme =

Sun, 29 Jun 2008 17:40:15 GMT

Hrrrm. We have here one literature meme, and another soundtrack one. :3 I need more soundtrack memes--- they're so funny! XD

Stolen from rhianna_aurora

1) Look at the list and bold those you have read.
2) Italicize those you intend to read.
3) Underline the books you LOVE.
4) Reprint this list in your own LJ so we can try and track down these people who've read 6 and force books upon them.

1. Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
2. The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien
3. Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
4. Harry Potter series - JK Rowling
5. To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
6. The Bible
7. Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
8. Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell
9. His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
10. Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
11. Little Women - Louisa M Alcott
12. Tess of the D'Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
13. Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
14. Complete Works of Shakespeare
15. Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier
16. The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien
17. Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks
18. Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger
19. The Time Traveller's Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
20. Middlemarch - George Eliot
21. Gone With The Wind -Margaret Mitchell
22. The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald - WHARE IS DOUBLE UNDERLINE WHEN YOU NEED IT? This is my holy grail.
23. Bleak House - Charles Dickens
24. War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
25. The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
26. Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
27. Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28. Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck - OH, DAMN THIS SINGLE UNDERLINE. I want a triple underline, kthnx.
29. Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
30. The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame -- no, but I used to watch the animated television show when I was a kid. :D
31. Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
32. David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
33. Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis
34. Emma - Jane Austen
35. Persuasion - Jane Austen
36. The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis
37. The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
38. Captain Corelli's Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
39. Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
40. Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne
41. Animal Farm - George Orwell
42. The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
43. One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44. A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving
45. The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
46. Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery
47. Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
48. The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood -- This book scared me shitless as a kid.
49. Lord of the Flies - William Golding
50. Atonement - Ian McEwan
51. Life of Pi - Yann Martel
52. Dune - Frank Herbert
53. Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54. Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
55. A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
56. The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57. A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
58. Brave New World - Aldous Huxley -- AHSDBWUOBC! An all time fave. If I have a boychild, it will be named Aldous.
59. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
60. Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
61. Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
62. Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
63. The Secret History - Donna Tartt
64. The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold
65. Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
66. On The Road - Jack Kerouac
67. Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
68. Bridget Jones' Diary - Helen Fielding
69. Midnight's Children - Salman Rushdie
70. Moby Dick - Herman Melville
71. Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
72. Dracula - Bram Stoker
73. The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
74. Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
75. Ulysses - James Joyce
76. The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
77. Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
78. Germinal - Emile Zola
79. Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
80. Possession - AS Byatt
81. A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
82. Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
83. The Color Purple - Alice Walker
84. The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
85. Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
86. A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
87. Charlotte's Web - EB White
88. The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
89. Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle -- I don't know what counts as 'reading' in this case, since I read the 'Children's Classic' edition... you know, the cheap hardcover with pictures on nearly every page?
90. The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
91. Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
92. The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery
93. The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94. Watership Down - Richard Adams
95. A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole
96. A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97. The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
98. Hamlet - William Shakespeare
99. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl
100. Les Miserables - Victor Hugo

Looking over this list, I begin to wonder: why is there no Hemingway on that list? I like F. Scott better than Ernie anyway, but Ernesto wrote a fair few classics in his time. Hrrm. Well, at least I've been reminded of all the Dickens I need to read.

ANOTHER MEME? WHUT?

I... dunno where this came from, actually.

1. Open your music library.
2. Put it on shuffle.
3. Press play.
4. For every question, write down the song that's playing — no matter how silly or retarded it sounds.
5. Press fast-forward to answer a new question.

Opening Credits: I'm Not Okay (I Promise) — MCR
Waking Up: Vertigo — U2
First Day of High School: The Good Left Undone — Rise Against
Falling In Love: Such Great Heights — The Postal Service (?)
Fight Song: Godzilla (Brain Stew Remix) — Green Day
Breaking Up: Mikazuki — Souhime
Prom: Goodnight to the Moon — Sleep Station
Life: Rakuen — Souhime
Mental Breakdown: Elevatiory — U2
Driving: Stars Shining Out — Souhime
Flashback: Vampires Will Never Hurt You — MCR
Reunion: In Fate's Hands — Red Jumpsuit Apparatus
Wedding: I Never Told You What I Did For A Living — MCR (... not something you want to hear during/after a wedding)
Birth of A Child: 18th Floor Balcony — Blue October
Final Battle: Ryuu — Souhime
Closing Credits: Headfirst for Halos — MCR

Okay, some of these are oddly apt... and some are just WTF RANDOM.

EDIT: OKAY FCUK YOU, BOLD. SRSLY. D<

= ahaha, moron =

Sat, 28 Jun 2008 12:39:40 GMT

SO YEAH.

I... well, the least of my problems (and by 'problems', I mean the many reasons for not being el-jay alive) was that the intarnetz were turned off in my house. Mostly because my mom can't really afford the lifestyle she's living, but that's another story entirely. The other problems were severe thunder storms (and the power outages they brought) that closed the library for THREE DAYS WTF and trapped me in my house playing Apples to Apples with my sister and my friend Katy.

Also, I've been packing for art-college at my dad's house, and that took more time than should be reasonably expected (but somehow, I got there with NO PANTS. Why didn't I pack more pants? Srsly, where was my brain?). And... yeah. Oh, and Katy's been living at my house because her stepdad's on a rampage and she and her belongings aren't really safe at home. SO YEAH.

/really long obnoxious excuse reel

Anyway, just expect more random in your friends' page from now on. :3

= whare is it ending polarkids? =

Tue, 17 Jun 2008 22:24:20 GMT

If you were going to marry your boyfriend, what would your name be? Uh, as it is because I HAVE NO BOYFRIEND.

What did you do this afternoon? Played Naruto Ultimate Ninja 3 with Mandy!Kisame and Kaite-I-hate-Aurikku

When do you plan on having kids or your next kid? EW BABIES ARE NASTY NOEZ.

Do you know a secret about your last ex that would embarrass them? .... WHICH EX? THE INVISIBLE ONE?

Can you take a bra off with one hand? No, that is a skill I have yet to acquire.

Can you use chopsticks? ...poorly.

How old were you when you lost your first tooth? Like, five.

Were you a hyper or mellow kid? Mellow-bordering-on-retarded

Why did you throw up last? ... I don't recall.

Last time you were drunk? OMG ON ORANGE JUICE THAT TIME WITH THE DUCK. No, I do not expect understand from you.

What's for dinner? CHICKEN.

Ever been to the Statue of Liberty? No, but I've seen it from a ferry.

Voting for Hillary? Unable to vote, too young. Even if I could, I wouldn't. SINCE SHE ISN'T RUNNING.

How many e-mail addresses do you have? LOL, like millions. I only check two, though.

Do you HAVE to have brand name stuff? HAHAHAHAHAHA, you're funny. No.

Last time you washed your hair? 6AM Eastern Standard Time.

Do you like Oreos? Who doesn't?

Do you send out Thank-You cards? ....erm, no. But now I feel like a skank, so I might. Probably not.

Can you ice skate? LULZ. With a lawn chair.

Do you know how to change a diaper? EW BABIES NASTY NOEZ.

Do you flip people off while driving? Drive? Since when do I drive? SINCE NEVER.

What colour is your car? Red and covered in catipillar shit.

Would you take a bullet for anyone? Yeah, actually. Surprised? I was.

Do you keep a planner? For school, but now that it's summer... ahaha, no.

What are you wearing exactly? A T-Shirt from Pi-Con and jeans.

Do you like to grocery shop? Uh, no.

What kind of mood are you in? Uhm, caffinated.

Last time you cleaned? 8AM Eastern Standard Time.

Did you get an Easter basket? From my mommy.

What pills do you take daily? NONE BWAHAAHAHAHA. Although, admittedly, I should.

Do you do your own laundry? I do everyone's laundry all the time.

Do you go tanning? HAHAHAHA, I GO BURNING.

Has someone close to you passed away this past year? No, no one I've known has ever died. But it's only a matter of time, the way some of them live.

Baths or showers? ....do I have to answer this? Showers.

Do you take out the trash? Yes.

Are you getting engaged any time soon? HAHAHAHAHAHAHA, TO KISAME!MANDY MAYBE.

What's the best part about being single? Having zero obligations, I guess.

Paper or Plastic? I bring my own bags, bitch.

Do you watch "The Hills"? Garbage.

Last CD you played? Blue October.

What did you do last Saturday night? Uh... read Aurikku fanfiction, watched Investigation Discover, and dreamed about oceans.

Which one of your friends is going to have the cutest baby? WHICH OF MY FRIENDS IS HAVING A BABY? Probably Bridget. She's the beauty of our crew.

What is the theme of your bedroom? Drywall-themed.

Wearing any bracelets? None.

Last thing someone bought for you? Lunch, kthnx Katie.

What are you going to do now? ...another meme.

What went down in your last argument? Uh, me failing to persuade Katie that Aurikku is crack.

What should you be doing right now? A MEME.

What do you hear? My sister Morgan beating the shit out of virtual monsters.

Whats your favourite Boy/ Girls name. LOL ALDOUS AND JUNE.

Do you have any new pets? Nope.

Current annoyance? WTF POKEMON THEME SONG MORGAN?

Are you giving up/ changing something about your life? .... er, no? Unless you count Honors Latin.

Whats the last text message you recieved? MEAGHAN, CALL ME NOW — DAD

Last time you had a good laugh? Thirty minutes ago.

Are you happy? I'd be happier if MY COFFEE WOULD FINISH WTF WHY ARE YOU SO FULL OF FAIL?!

= moar memeliscious fun =

Tue, 17 Jun 2008 22:02:11 GMT

Another meme. Really, I need a life. Plz come back, Mandy so we can Kisuke together. :3

01. Your ex is on the side of the road on fire. What do you do? Nothing, because I have no exes.
02. Your best friend tells you she is pregnant. What is your reaction? ... WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT KISAME, MANDY?
03. When is the last time you wanted to punch someone in their face? Uh, Tuesday last.
04. Congratulations! You just had a son. What's his name? ALDOUS, PLZ.
05. Congratulations! You just had a daughter. What's her name? June. :3
06. What are you craving right now? COFFEEEEEEE~
07. What was the last thing you cried about?The
wildejoy fanfic "Fox". Woe for the fox. D;
08. When you buy something and your change is a penny...do you keep it or tell them to keep the change? Um, I keep it because I'm too shy to tell the cashier no. >_<' /fatalflaw
09. What color is your tissue box? ... actually, it's cardboard flavor. Mmm, DollarTree.
10. Do you have a ceiling fan in your room, and if so, is there dust on that fan? Er, no. Window fan = yes, and yes it is covered in filth. I... should clean that.
11. What is the last voicemail you received about? Calling my dad back. Pfft, not happening.
12. Scariest thing you've experienced in the last year? Uh, being Kisame-raped by Mandy. o_o' /scarredforlife
13. What do you order when you go to Taco Bell? ...I've never been to Taco Bell. But I have stolen their sporks. Does that count?
14. Have you ever had a garage sale? Yes, and I sold a lot of old shit to creepy men on bicycles. >_<
15. What was the last alcoholic beverage you had? Does citrus flavored diet green tea count? Because it should.
16. Are you happy right now? NO BECAUSE MY COFFEE IS MAKING SO SLOW. WOE.
17. Who came over last? KATIE AND MANDY!KISAME. X3
18. Do you miss anybody right now? Mandy... I need my seme, plzkthnx...
19. Dark or light jeans? Dark, bitchez.
20. What was the last movie you watched at home? Mm. I don't remember. Our TVs been out for so long. Does FFX cinematic animation count? Because, if so, AURONNNNNNN.
21. What is in your pocket? Lint.
22. Where do you hurt? In my pockets. I are brokezorz.
24. What is your favorite aisle at Wal-Mart? The aisle that doesn't have that creepy man in it. Srsly. He's freaky.
25. When is your birthday? ON SUNDAY :P
26. What are you going to do after this? Another meme, prolly.
27. What is your favorite dessert? Raw cookie dough. Mmm.
28. Do you have the same name as one of your relatives? Dewd, I've only met one other person EVER who has the same name as me. And we weren't related— that I know of.
29. Is someone plotting your demise? HAHAHAHA, MANDY. >3
30. Has anyone ever mistaken you for a family member? Uhm, my mom calls me by my sister's name all the time. And my dad calls me my mom's name all the time.
31. Does someone like you right now? ...MANDY!KISAME. LOLOLOL.
32. Do you know anyone in jail/prison? I know some people who should be.
33. Do you like the color green? Yar.
34. Do you think someone is thinking about you right now? My dad's probably wondering why I'm not calling him.

= when I try =

Tue, 17 Jun 2008 21:41:39 GMT

RULES:
1. Put Your iTunes, Windows Media Player, ETC on Shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS.
4. Put any comments in brackets after the song name.
5. Put this on your journal.

1. If someone says, "Is this okay?" You say?
With You Now — Sleep Station

2. How would you describe yourself?
Come As You Are — Nirvana [ omg!accurate for once! ]

3. What do you like in a guy/girl?
Fidelity (Soubi) — Loveless OST [... wtf, all the songs are making sense now... ]

4. How do you feel today?
Demolition Lovers — My Chemical Romance [ Pretty accurate... well, not quite. AHAHA KISAME~ ]

5. What is your life's purpose?
Crawling in My Skin — Linkin Park

6. What is your motto?
Godzilla (Brain Stew Remix) — Green Day [ oh, for defs. ]

7. What do your friends think of you?
Big Casino — Jimmy Eat World [ ...cash whore? YES ONLY FOR YOU KATIE, OHOHOHO ]

8. What do you think of your parents?
Salt in Our Wounds — HIM [ ... O muthar o' mine! ]

9. What do you think about very often?
Get Busy Livin' or Get Busy Dyin' — Fall Out Boy

10. What is 2 + 2?
Show Me Love — Tatu [ LEZBIAN SEXXORZ. lololololo, I need coffee. ]

11. What do you think of your best friend?
I Love You (Prelude to Tragedy) — HIM [ LOLOLOL KISAME, MANDY, KISAME~! ]

12. What do you think of the person you like?
Pain — Jimmy Eat World [ love = pain? I s'pose ]

13. What is your life story?
Lonely in Gorgeous — Tommy February6 [ .... actually, complete fail on this one. ]

14. What do you want to be when you grow up?
Behind Closed Doors — Rise Against [ ... why have I never heard this before? WTF, Laura, are you porning up my harddrive again? ]

15. What do you think of when you see the person you like?
Touchdown, Turnaround — Hellogoodbye [ :D ]

16. What will you dance to at your wedding?
Tsuki no Curse — Loveless OST [ ... my guests will not be able to appreciate this. ]

17. What will they play at your funeral?
Busted — Johnny Cash [ LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL, YESSSS ]

18. What is your hobby/interest?
House Of Cards — Madina Lake

19. What is your biggest fear?
You Give Love A Bad Name — Bon Jovi [ ???!!! ]

20. What is your biggest secret?
The Gift of Paralysis — Envy On The Coast

21. What do you think of your friends?
Grand Theft Autumn — Fall Out Boy [ wtf is all this FOB doing on my computer? I need to purge, srsly. ]

22. What will you post this as?
When I Try — New London Fire

= recommended aurikku reading =

Tue, 17 Jun 2008 15:05:57 GMT

I thought I'd make a list of all the amazing Aurikku fanfiction I've found in the past few days. So I don't forget the amazing, and so I can go back every now and then to relive the awesome. :3 Will prolly be updated as I find more amazing to add.

Fox: In which Auron finds himself unable to cast any more stones.
Children: The red butterflies are the prettiest, after all. A wake up call to Auron.
Apple: Rikku. Auron. To them, what is theirs... and probably isn't. She always did like taking things. A series of stories focusing around their unique relationship; KH/FFX
Wounds: In which Rikku reminds Auron of childhood memories.
Happy As A Clam: Rikku. Auron. To them, what is theirs... and probably isn't. She always did like taking things. A series of stories focusing around their unique relationship; KH/FFX (part of the same fic collections as Apple)
No: In which Auron tells a lie— with the best of intentions.
Parallels: They were some pretty sucky last words to the last girl you kissed, and the last time you kissed her. Rikku laughs.
The Naked Dead, And Her: Post-game; Rikku deals with her red-coated ghosts the best way she knows how. It's tough being newly sixteen, sticky, and heartbroken.

The Guardian: A modern-day Aurikku. Auron is a police detective, bound to avenge the deaths of his partners, Jecht and Braska. He never counted on Braska's niece showing up and teaching him how to love.

= meme =

Mon, 16 Jun 2008 13:16:55 GMT

Stolen from rhianna_aurora, because memes are fun. :3

1. First name: Meaghan. Yeah, I know. Weird spelling.
2. Age: .....16. 17 IN LESS THAN A WEEK, KAY?
3. Location: Coastal Massachusetts.
4. Occupation: Highschool student. Er, pre-college student?
5. Partner?: No one. Ever. ):
6. Kids: Well, I pretty much take care of my younger sister, since our mom works 24/7. Other than that, no.
7. Brothers/Sisters: One sister. Named Morgan Faye ____. MORGAN FAYE? And my mom says she never read King Arthur. >D
8. Pets: Two cats; Midnight (Morgan's) and Poe (mine). Black and white, respectively.
9. List the 3-5 biggest things going on in your life:
1) Going to art college in a few weeks, hoping to learn something.
2) MY BIRFDAY.
3) Lots and lots of off time between art college and now.
10. Parents?: Father, Gary. Mother, Carol. Divorced. Father lives 40 minutes away, and I'll be staying with him during art college. Uhm, amicable relationship.
11. Who are some of your closest friends?: Uhm, Katie for getting me addicted to Final Fantasy X, and Bridget for... being Bridget. Laura, because no one else shares my pain in math class, and Andrew for explaining 4chan to me (in intimate detail, LOL). Blake for being A DUCKLING~! and Nate for being so wicked emo. OH, and Scott, because he's always automatically elected to deal with other people's drama. XDDDDD

= I dieded. =

Sat, 14 Jun 2008 16:41:28 GMT

Well, yeah.

I haven't posted in forever, and the only reason I'm even on LJ now is because of Aurikku. I swore I would never get into FFX after Bridget and the Yuna incident... but I did. AND OMG AUROOOON. My friend (fiend?) Katie made me play FFX over the past week, and I love it so much. Don't be hating, brutha.

So, yeah. I'm done with school for the next three weeks, and then I go to pretend-college and study art for the first time. Expect nothing from me, because this time I make no promises.

(Not that anyone follows my journal enough to actually care, but... XD )

= mebbe. =

Thu, 15 Nov 2007 22:04:40 GMT

I was thinking that an update was in order. So, here it is.

I'm buried up to my eyes in homework (of the historical sort) and I hate my math teacher with the burning passion of a thousand suns. Actually, I really don't hate her. But she scares me. She really, really scares me. I'm in Drama Club, and what a splendid extracurricular to be in! As a stage-left techie, I get to carry tables, stub toes, and expound upon my cussing vocabulary.

And on December first, I get to find out how badly I flunked my PSATs, and get the "you'll-never-go-to-college-oh-my-god-you-terrible-child" speech. Lovely.

I'm practicing in Photoshop (and sucking hard at that, lemme tell you) but I hope that one day my suckiness won't be so completely sucky. Suck, suck, suck. Let's use that word some more.

I'm tired. Grarg.

= default asphalt =

Sat, 20 Oct 2007 01:46:15 GMT

... you taught me otherwise.

You taught me to ride a bike, and how to tie a shoe. Why the sky is blue, and how summer rain feels on your face. You taught me how to laugh, how to live, how to love. I was so new at life, and so eager to leave what seemed the drab and bedraggled sights of childhood behind. Now I want nothing more than to return to those days, and live in a stagnant world of youth eternal.

Her skin was so pale--- corpselike. The color of new ivory (fresh off the dead elephant, lord), moldering bones (that night in the churchyard, a pale sliver against the dark--- he wanted it to be the moon, how he wanted), and the sharp teeth of sharks... and worse.

Not a thought he wanted to have; not a thought he wanted anyone to have. That skin, that same skin, stretched so tight and rigid over her cheeks, like the fragile shell of an egg; likely to hatch at any moment, and unleash the torrent of wildfire and buzzing flies that lurked beneath.

Living in Eden, you sometimes forget the world exists.

It's all very fine and good to pretend that Eden is the world, but you can't really ever forget the entirety of the universe sulking, bitter and near-forgotten, in the outskirts of the One City. The world, however, is a stubborn, stupid thing, and it won't let you forget it without a fight.

And the ends of her nails (the most elegant tips of the most delicate fingers) dug furious, passionate furrows in his back, and her throat worked, full of strangled cries she couldn't---

wouldn't---

release. And she picked herself up, using every muscle in her back, to rise to his ear and nip it. He made a noise into her neck, and she made one right back, thrusting herself forward and collapsing back.

They moved together, like twins sharing the same skin, and he could hardly think how she managed to get herself on top; but there it was, he couldn't work out most things about her. Modest, whorish, ladylike, fiery, girlish, ripe, noble, debauched--- no words could tame her, no description could capture her. She was everything and nothing and all things in-between.

And then they moved together one last time, and each cried out the other's name.

"Hold me," she asked, and he knew it was wrong. Wrong of her to ask, and wrong of his to accede; but, there it was, his weakness. He couldn't deny her anything, not one thing, if she looked at him with that face

[eyelashes lowered, face tilted, that errant lock of hair straying to cover those downcast eyes--- but no hair could hide her need, and no amount of denial would banish it]

especially if it were a small thing. Little. Like a sisterly embrace; from retainer to liege. That was all.

And when she lay her hand against his neck and whispered that need in his ear, he tried to stop her. Tried to tell her, "No. You are a great lady, and I am nothing. Do not waste yourself on me. Not you, please, please, not you."

But somewhere along the way from his brain to his mouth, the words dried up and died a small death behind his voice; what came out instead was the low moan of a dog in pain, a dog denied, a dog denying itself the one joy life had allotted it.

"Silly hound," she said, spreading her legs over his lap, and covering his ear with her mouth. "Do as your lady bids."

.... BITCH.

= accidental chronometric =

Sat, 11 Aug 2007 02:22:30 GMT

Words were so integrally a part of her being that the world was foreign and savage without them.

She was born with an abnormally normal occurrence for someone who existed entirely as an anomaly: she was born with a gift.

"Everyone has a gift." She told me. "You, me, Joe Bum on the corner of fifth and fifty-fourth. Doesn't matter what it is--- everyone has one. Makes life bearable, knowing you can do something well. Sometimes, people get lucky and their gift lends itself to be more than one thing. Others... they have to take what they've been given. That's all anyone can do; take what life offers."

She never said the word God because she recognized blasphemy and tread lightly around it, but cautiously replaced God with life all the same. Words were her medium, her paint, but people made her nervous, so she hid herself away inside many years accumulation of acquired manners and mannerisms, politeness that doubled as a shield.

"Do you believe in magic?" she asked me once, nursing a cup of coffee. A pause, and then, "Well, I do."

"I don't know."

She didn't reply, staring diffidently through the wall. "I wish you did."

"If wishes were fishes---"

"---no one would ever starve." She smiled. Her smile was like a second morning.

She was ugly in a beautiful way. If she smiled a little wider, laughed a little more... but she had been conditioned to believe the lie that was writ in the faces of her peers. Ugliness was a sin she had perpetrated on them, and she was eternally apologetic about it.

"I'm sorry!" was a defense she had, one of many. It said, in two words, I apologize that I've made you look at my face. I am an ugly thing, deserving only sympathy and not anger, and not harshness, be gentle and forgive my sins. I am sorry.

Her defenses were thick and old, built when she was young to hide her differences from children. Her greatest asset was her memory; her greatest weakness was her willingness to disregard it. She erased most of her childhood by forgetting it, and wondered always after why small children made her so nervous and fearful. A deep-set fear never leaves; it grows roots, spreads out, and settles in.

Her gratitude was another mechanism to protect her delicate heart. Gratitude was something she offered strangers, returning thanks profusely for services rendered. People she depended on were taken for granted; people she depended on had earned her trust. She assumed that they would help her unconditionally, as she would help them, and she assumed that this help required no thanks, as she would refuse gratitude from them. She felt that she had the right to assume things of people she trusted, because she already knew they assumed things about her.

Working on building a character. Obviously, needs a lot more work. Corrections are welcomed, laurels loved.