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I keep writing because... well, why?

With my soul so precariously bound between a void that I have brushed and fear and a life I am no longer willing to accept, why do I keep writing?

Because once, there was someone who used to check this profile on a regular basis- who read my words for the love of me and knew me for them. Whatever illusions exist on solid ground now, they are only illusions, because I am here, clean of the ghosts of shouts and pain.

Whatever ground that the person stands on now, whichever side of the void, if they touch this part of me again, I can't help but  feel like I will somehow know that they have done so and breathe again.

So keep writing, me. And keep writing, you. Whoever you are, wherever you are, let words remind you that your voice is powerful in love and hate, in joy and loss. And maybe, maybe someone will hear and find you beautiful. What else can we ask for?
Hope, my friends.

Hope, to any who read this.

Hope is everything.
I seem bent on my own destruction.

My loves are vicious. Rather, my love, which is singular and a bitter drink when sipped alone.
My writing is empty. It is full of almosts and slightlys and halfway theres.
My life is a whirlwind. I fill it with tasks and phantom duties so that I can avoid the things I am too weak to try for.
I am a fool. In nearly every facet of life, I surrender to my own weaknesses instead of taking life as it should be.
And I'm cold and won't close the window. Masochism? Yeah, maybe.

It's time for some upheaval. Some self-revolution. My cells need to revolt and save my spirit from it's own deep and consuming sorrows. I need to stop disappointing myself and realize that I demand too much of this singular and mortal body.

I feel so lost.
  • Listening to: My Heart Was Home Again - Josh Groban
  • Reading: Catching Fire - Suzanne Collins
This morning I had to wake up at 3:00 to finish my homework as I was exhausted out of my everlovin' mind by around 9:30 last night (insane.). I grumbled all the way downstairs, finished my paper in an hour and suddenly had two hours to kill. Meh. What do you do with two hours on a Wednesday morning in the almost-middle of February? You go outside of course. So that is what I did.

I very slowly got dressed, made a playlist, breathed, found a thick blanket, made some special hot chocolate, found a good pen, dug out that ridiculously thick coat that I refused to wear all through junior high because it went to my knees, and went outside.

And while I was out there, sitting on my front porch, distracted by the dim and inconsistent light of a single street light, I realized that I wasn't waiting for a sunrise, but a something. I want something to come and get me. Pick me up. Wake me up. I want to walk in some light for once. Perhaps this is the winter getting to me, that halfway-there mental state of cabin fever.

And I realized as I was writing by the light of my ipod backlight, secured firmly between my chin and coat collar, that I really couldn't wait anymore. Eventually I was going to have to get up, go back inside and finish getting ready for the day.So as I stepped back inside of the warm house and flipped a switch, inundating the familiar hallway with light I found myself thinking that sometimes you have to create your own sunrise, flip a switch and take control of that aspect of your existence. Because you can't always wait for nature to take its course and do it for you.
  • Listening to: Exurgency - Zoe Keating
I have very little recollection of writing my latest poem Playground of the Dead. I woke up this morning and went to write something in the faithful blue notebook and opened to a page entitled Playground of the Dead: 12:36 AM. This isn't particularly odd except for the looming fact that ... I was well asleep by 12:36 AM.

I don't recall writing the poem, but it is definitely in my handwriting. Very dark. Very eerie. I think I must have been frightened by the fierce winds yesterday evening. It's no piece of great news that I am very susceptible to atmosphere and easily put in fear of the dark. But. I must have been subconsciously in terror of whatever was outside. The wind continues today, but in the gray daylight, I am more inspired than afraid.
  • Reading: The Dragon Heir
  • Watching: Friday Night Lights (the movie)
  • Drinking: Honey Vanilla Chamomile Tea
So it finally happened. I finally uploaded deviations. Ha. I told you it would happen and it did. How do you feel about yourselves now? Doubting me all this time.

Things to do today.

- Bask in the joy of new lurrve
- Get in touch with my inner Sick Puppies groupie
- Figure out the finances of getting a premium membership
- Listen to some songs about the zombie apocalypse
- Read more of the Grapes of Wrath
- Find a band-aid... or four. Does anyone have some?
- Trick out my walkman with song lyrics. Yeah....
- Find a used tape-player online
- Write some postcards! (Virginia is For Lovers. Oh. Kills Me everytime)
- Make some new playlists. It's about time we refurnished the old playlists
- Read some horrible book about a whale (not Moby Dick. That dominates)
- Stop writing lame to-do lists on dev-art

I hope you all enjoy the new deviations. And I have had so much caffeine that my eyes hurt from not being able to blink. Agh.
--Hanz
  • Listening to: Everything- Single File
  • Reading: The Grapes of Wrath
  • Watching: the Free Hugs video
  • Drinking: Straight Guarana in Water
So I did some writing at music camp. It's all in the great big notebook upstairs, waiting to be typed up and fed to the compy. Although I have something of an idea.

I was thinking of taking screenshots of each of the pieces of writing and then making them the display picture for the literature. I would still type everything for readability, but I feel like it would give my pieces a little more character? Something special?

Plus, I'm extremely vain about my handwriting =) I would love to hear your opinions on this before I try it out for the first time so please, comment away!
  • Listening to: We Might As Well Be Strangers - Keane
  • Reading: The Grapes of Wrath
  • Eating: Maple Nut Bars. Mmmmmmm...
  • Drinking: Water. (Must... replenish... fluids...)
The internet is taking over my muse. Aaaaah!!!!!!! Believe it, devarters. Everytime I sign on facebook it's like some of my individuality dies, consumed by the void of the cybernetosphere.

So I'm leaving for two weeks. No updates. No poetry. No short stories. No anything. Call it a hiatus. To follow the adventure (yes. I'm so technohooked that leaving it for two weeks qualifies as an adventure). And did I mention the $50 I get from my father? Yes. That too.

So I will be back. If I survive. Leave me dev-love while I'm off and about.

Farewell,
Hanz
  • Listening to: Sleeping Sickness - City and Colour
  • Reading: The Carbon Diaries
  • Watching: Degrassi. Erm. Yeah. Still.
  • Drinking: MountainDeeeeeeeeeewwwwww
This is the first time I've ever done something like this, so thank you :iconhellscreamster: for the tag. Now if I could only figure out how to make those fantastic avatars pop up...
... --- ...
The rules:
1. Post the rules.
2. Each tagged person must tell 8 things about themselves
3. At the end you have to tag 8 people and post their icons in your journal
4. Then go back to their page and leave a comment saying you tagged them
5. No tag backs

... --- ...

~1~ I can only write stories on the computer (with a keyboard) and poems in a notebook (with a pen). Always have and probably always will.

~2~ I cannot do anything physically spectacular, but I know more than fifty ways to kill a man. I'm being completely serious right now.

~3~ I'm a livejournal freak. I always have to maintain several journals at a time. Or one epic one. Right now its the one epic one that is in my information *cough* shameless self advertising *cough*

~4~ I was extremely excited that :iconhellscreamster: tagged me, not because he's singularly awesome as a devararter, but because he speaks Portugese. Yeah. How lame am I? I wish I knew some Portugese words. It would make my life brilliant.

~5~ My best friend and I come full circle. She does not like people and I love them. Pessimism, optimism. Awesomeness (her) and lameness (me).

~6~ I eat more salad than anyone I know. It's my main form of sustenance.

~7~ I actually don't know very much about myself. I wish I knew more so I have recently adopted the motto Carpe Diem. Sieze the day. Perhaps impulsivities will lead to discovery. I even have the words Carpe Diem engraved on the back of my iPod.

~8~ I love living. Like. Alot. I wake up every morning and it's just like damn. Good morning, sun.

:iconqpalmer: :iconpoetrymann: :iconelwenaldalinde: :iconthatsonephatmullet: :iconvociferaciously: :iconomega132: :icongoldenbullets: :iconthetwelve:
  • Listening to: Mother, We Just Can't Get Enough - New Radicals
  • Reading: Max - James Patterson
  • Watching: DEGRASSI! *cough* I mean..... The history Channel
I would like to send a deep devart thank you out to the user Qpalmer (Shameless advertising bit: Check out his gallery gogogogo). He's a dear friend of mine and I am extremely thankful for his help in finally uploading an avatar. My dear compy *twitch* has given me some serious issues in the past with the avatar and after 11 months of fond deviating I finally feel legitimate.

And nothing helps a person to feel more legitimate than celebrating with six episodes of Family Guy on Hulu at midnight. I might need a life.


But! It seems as if the boat of lurrve has once again landed on my weary, adolescent shores. Expect some poetry in the weeks to come. You know, more poetry than usual. Which is a good thing, right?

I will be updating soon, I do believe. Some devArt action with a fancy new avatar sounds like a good thing to focus on, no?
  • Listening to: The Saltwater Room - Owl City
  • Reading: Tender Morsels - Margo Lanagan
  • Watching: Family Guy *sigh*
I just received the most fantastic FIVE subject five-star notebook from my mother. Yesyesyesyesyesyes!!! Thank you, madre! Other writers out there will understand the feeling and perhaps artists with their sketch books and considerably more expensive photoshop software. The ink is in the pages, just waiting to be realized and the freshness of each section is so fiercely inviting. It demands my immediate attention. Perhaps some new deviations will find form on these promising sheets? Pshaw, not even a question.
  • Listening to: Which to Bury, Us or the Hatchet? - Relient K
  • Reading: My Bonny Light Horseman - LA Meyer
  • Eating: Grapefruit
  • Drinking: Vitamin Water
11:11 Wazzat?

I do not believe that biology papers should keep one up to the wishing hour. But. In this case. I wish that my paper would finish itself, that I would suddenly inspire people with my writing, that there would be world peace (is not watching Miss Congeniality while homeworking near morning), and that I have the chance to tromp in the woods sometime soon. Some woods tromping would do me good I think.

I have started a new journal. Not a blog journal or a devart journal (as you can tell, my attention to this is still dismal), but a paper and ink, smell that - feel that- god it's 1 in the morning and I just had an epiphany journal. Hopefully it will last for more than a day. Or two. It has already lasted a day so I have beaten 16 of my previous records. But once I succumb to the mediocrity of my life then it appears as I will lose all semblance of journalage and it will become another scribble book. Brace Yourself For the Mediocre, in the wise words of the band Roper.

And speaking of bracing oneself. I suppose I should brace myself for the truth and gung-ho hardcore start working on this paper. I have prepared with seven different varieties of candy from the school vending machines and assorted bags of generic potato chip brands. I am going to be muy enorme by the time I have completed any research whatsoever on biotechnology. Which reminds me. I still have to do Spanish.

C'est la vie.
Dang. Wrong language.

Goodnight - Goodmorning and Happy Journaling to You All,
Me (which, coincidentally, is also me in Spanish ;])
  • Listening to: Annie Waits - Ben Folds
  • Reading: The Remnants of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
  • Eating: Swedish Fish
  • Drinking: Agua
So it appears that I've been having some serious difficulties with my avatar changer-upper. AKA: I've never been able to get it to work. It always says that the image is not  the right size (even if it is). So here's the journal entry worthy moment.

Has anyone ever had this problem before and how do I fix it?

Thank you muchly,
Reeve
  • Listening to: Mr. Pitiful - Matt Costa
  • Reading: Call Me Ishmael (haha. pattern)
  • Watching: my mother vaccuum
  • Playing: with my earbuds
  • Eating: chocolate
  • Drinking: chapstick
I haven't been writing very much recently, which is extremely unfortunate. Because I have that distant feeling that scrawling down some serious fiction and poetry would help me a little bit with my pain. I'm a very optimistic person, but I think that the sunniest of us lose sight of what's right and good in life at some point. So many hurtful things that I thought belonged in fairy tales and novels have been leaping off of the page in the past few months.

Backstabbing friends. Friends that aren't friends. First loves. Feeling that it will be your last. Needing to wrap your arms around someone, just to make it feel like there is one person who will owe you one when you need it. Hurting all the time. Acting all the time. Singing and dancing and spinning and falling all of the time. Covering up wounds with layers and layers of foundation and basecoat and concealer and latex paint and still feeling like everyone can see it. Being torn apart by being all things to all people. And doubt. Doubt is a simple word for a horribly complex emotion. Because it doesn't stop with the one that you doubt. It makes you rethink everything.

I've done alot of that. Rethinking. Who I am. Why I'm here. What I'm willing to do. What I'm willing to compromise for the goal that I'm not sure of. When is it okay for me to show these things? The answer is, of course, never. Which is why I write. And why I must return to writing, because it seems to be the only thing I can trust and truly rely on. Deities there may be and deities I believe in, but as for a manifestation? I need one. Send me down a miracle! Please! I've been crying that for months and my mind is hoarse. My soul is voiceless.

So here's for a journal, more of poetry and less of fiction. I may need more of the second to remind me who I am.
  • Listening to: Sister Golden Hair - America
  • Reading: Moby Dick =)
  • Eating: Soup!
  • Drinking: Soup!
Excuse me for being horrible and politically incorrect as I unload my Christmas wishes on all you fabulous deviants. You know, all two of you that watch =)

So. For Christmas this year I have the incredible privilege of seeing my best friend in the entire world. For more than a day too! 2 days and counting left until I see her again... So mazeltovh (ironyyyy) for me!

There is only one thing lacking to my Christmas season and that is a Deviantart subscription! But with the fabulous, erm... 5 dollars... that I got from my grandmother, I am slowly working towards it. Slowly...

In other news, I am trying to choose the poem for submission to Teen Ink for this month. If you wouldn't mind commenting with your personal favorite from my gallery, I would be ever so thankful. Merry Christmas two readers!!

Yours,
Reeve
  • Listening to: Life After Death and Taxes - Relient K
  • Reading: Cybele's Secret
I am making a contribution to the ooze of message notifications that clogs my box everyday. Observe:

*signs on*

Me to self: Ah. 627...hundred message notifications. They must all be comments from people who like what I write!

*clicks link*

Me to self: or 2 comments and 5 polls and 620 journals. Huh?

*scrolls down to comments*

Comment: I be likez this potry. Eez guud, yez?
Comment2: Why don't you be writing journalz?

Me to tear-stained pillow: Nobody loves me...

*compy dings*

Messages: 928 journals and 23 cents

*collects coins and bribes devart into demolishing the journal option*

                           The end.

I don't really feel that vehemently about journals. But this scene is becoming more and more common.
  • Listening to: Walk Astray- Boy Sets Fire
  • Reading: your mind
I realize that an update has been long in coming, but I'm preparing something rather epic at the moment. Here are some random keywords to pique your interest.

Grimm
Werewolf
Telling Tales
Fractured

That's what I've got for you. You'll just have to wait until I have something solid to put up :) And it shouldn't be too long. As the cold months are coming and ladybugs begin their annual infestation, I have little else to do but write. And really, what's so bad about that?
  • Listening to: The Mountains of Mourne- Celtic Thunder
  • Reading: Inkdeath by Cornelia Funke
  • Drinking: water
Writing has always been so important to me. It's the embodiment of every good-horrible-fantastic-gross-beautiful-teary day. I write like some people eat. Selectively, but then in large quantities.

I am thankful to my fabulous five watchers and to deviantart for existing *bows to deviantart*. I hope you like what I write up. And check out the IWZ! It's my livejournal, where you're much more likely to get my story. Although-- not my stories ;)
  • Listening to: Jamie All Over - Mayday Parade
  • Reading: Truancy by Isamu Fukui
  • Drinking: Green Tea (with ginzeng)