Prompt: Describe a color
Kristina is wearing it today. I love pulling on the strings of this sweatshirt
The color of your whitie-tighties after you've had them for five years
My socks (which I don't wear)
Severus Snape's boxers
The color of the sky on the most depressing days
Skeletons from minecraft
And silverfish... damn annoying little leeches
Color of your face when there's no blood in it
rocks
gloomy
lugubrious
rainy days
clouds
thunderstorms
Gin-chan's hair and Sephiroth's hair and... lots of people's hair
Hairs this color are like the end of the frickin' world
The color of professionalism
boring, bland, flat, blank
shade... so I guess it's not really a color, is it?
hematite, silver, platinum, diamond
halfway between the dark and the light side of every corny movie
and between black and white the color, but that's unnecessary information
have you guessed yet?
The desks at school sans the blue tint
concrete, pavement, roads
most boring color ever
my favorite version of it is the dark, dark version; it has a sort of solidity to it
the light version looks washed-out
elephants, rhinos and fish
One of CPHS's colors :D
Note: Okay, I'm getting bored again... this color is boring, too. What was I thinking when I took Roxy up on hsi suggestion?
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Don't Run Around With Scissors... Or Else
Prompt: Journal about 10 reasons why you should not run with scissors--five serious and five ridiculous. You never know when you might need a list like this someday
1. You could die. I mean really. I once saw a re-run of the ER where a guy came in with a pair of scissors stabbed up through his ribcage. Ew... I mean, really. And it would be a painful way to go. Not fun.
2. Sephiroth fears scissors, therefore you should, too
3. They are evil and they cut hair. If you ever touch any, wash your hands immediately or you might be contaminated by their demonic aura
4. You could kill someone else. Yes, really. That wouldn't be fun, either.
5. You could go blind. If those sharp edges make contact with your eye and rip into the cornia and through the pupil, you will never see again. Therefore, caution when handling such a possibly life-altering object is a necessity.
6. You could go blind. Have you see the colors those monstrosities come in?
7. What if you cut your finger open while running with scissors, fall into the ocean and get attacked by sharks? Also, I've always wondered if mosquitoes flock to open wounds. Wanna experiemnt?
8. It hurts to cut your fingers open, and I'm sure it hurts to cut other people's fingers open, too.
9. You could be dismembered. Yes! Literally! Remember that episode of Heroes? Claire cut her toe off with a pair of scissors. (And she has the same name as me, too... bad karma...)
10. If you drop them they will hold a grudge against you for all eternity and you will be cursed for the rest of your life and beyond. That would really suck.
Note: This is ridiculous >.>
1. You could die. I mean really. I once saw a re-run of the ER where a guy came in with a pair of scissors stabbed up through his ribcage. Ew... I mean, really. And it would be a painful way to go. Not fun.
2. Sephiroth fears scissors, therefore you should, too
3. They are evil and they cut hair. If you ever touch any, wash your hands immediately or you might be contaminated by their demonic aura
4. You could kill someone else. Yes, really. That wouldn't be fun, either.
5. You could go blind. If those sharp edges make contact with your eye and rip into the cornia and through the pupil, you will never see again. Therefore, caution when handling such a possibly life-altering object is a necessity.
6. You could go blind. Have you see the colors those monstrosities come in?
7. What if you cut your finger open while running with scissors, fall into the ocean and get attacked by sharks? Also, I've always wondered if mosquitoes flock to open wounds. Wanna experiemnt?
8. It hurts to cut your fingers open, and I'm sure it hurts to cut other people's fingers open, too.
9. You could be dismembered. Yes! Literally! Remember that episode of Heroes? Claire cut her toe off with a pair of scissors. (And she has the same name as me, too... bad karma...)
10. If you drop them they will hold a grudge against you for all eternity and you will be cursed for the rest of your life and beyond. That would really suck.
Note: This is ridiculous >.>
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
How to Describe a Color Part III
Prompt: describe a color
I could be lazy and do something easy, but that's just no fun
The color with the most different shades on the spectrum
analogous to teal
complementary to red and pink
If you look out the window, chances are you will see it all over the ground, unless, of course, it snows between now and the next time you look out the window
leaves before they crinkle up into dried husks of their former selves
Ulquiorra's tears
emerald, peridot, agate
May and August
I've never seen a flower in this color before
I wonder what the sky would look like if the grass was blue (sorry, that was random)
Shade of my sister's eyes
I associate it too much with Government and Politics, especially in its brightest incarnation
mint chocolate chip ice cream (yummy...)
frogs
Jiraya, Ulquiorra, Lily Potter, Sephiroth, Aeris Gainsborough
Kyouka Suigetsu
Ulquiorra's eye-liner (which does not serve as eyeliner)
leaves, plants, ferns, trees, grass, loneliness, envy, jealousy
the color of my mom's thumbs when she's feeling productive
why are my tabs turning this color? What does that mean, doesn't anyone know?
celery, broccoli, peppers, watermelon...
No, I'm not drooling, every single one of those is nasty. And so are cucumbers
vines, poison ivy, Sakura Haruno...
I just realized that lots of things are this color, but I only own one shirt this color. Isn't that sad? I used to have a really pretty emerald-color one, but my sister stole it from me. Go figures, huh?
sharpie markers and the cat-bed in my room (which needs a bath badly)
Ebony's eyes
Using the subtlest shades of this color on a back-drop of black combined with the deepest of burgandy reds, it is possible to make a black shirt appear three-dimensional. Believe me, I've tried it. Took forever to do though...
Deviant Art!
Sorry, random
Zetsu
Ulquiorra... already said him, but I'll say it again
The color of the grass. If you haven't guessed by now, then that is very bad.
Note: I'm getting bored; there's just too much to list. I should pick a rarer color next time. Maybe then I'll be more creative.
I could be lazy and do something easy, but that's just no fun
The color with the most different shades on the spectrum
analogous to teal
complementary to red and pink
If you look out the window, chances are you will see it all over the ground, unless, of course, it snows between now and the next time you look out the window
leaves before they crinkle up into dried husks of their former selves
Ulquiorra's tears
emerald, peridot, agate
May and August
I've never seen a flower in this color before
I wonder what the sky would look like if the grass was blue (sorry, that was random)
Shade of my sister's eyes
I associate it too much with Government and Politics, especially in its brightest incarnation
mint chocolate chip ice cream (yummy...)
frogs
Jiraya, Ulquiorra, Lily Potter, Sephiroth, Aeris Gainsborough
Kyouka Suigetsu
Ulquiorra's eye-liner (which does not serve as eyeliner)
leaves, plants, ferns, trees, grass, loneliness, envy, jealousy
the color of my mom's thumbs when she's feeling productive
why are my tabs turning this color? What does that mean, doesn't anyone know?
celery, broccoli, peppers, watermelon...
No, I'm not drooling, every single one of those is nasty. And so are cucumbers
vines, poison ivy, Sakura Haruno...
I just realized that lots of things are this color, but I only own one shirt this color. Isn't that sad? I used to have a really pretty emerald-color one, but my sister stole it from me. Go figures, huh?
sharpie markers and the cat-bed in my room (which needs a bath badly)
Ebony's eyes
Using the subtlest shades of this color on a back-drop of black combined with the deepest of burgandy reds, it is possible to make a black shirt appear three-dimensional. Believe me, I've tried it. Took forever to do though...
Deviant Art!
Sorry, random
Zetsu
Ulquiorra... already said him, but I'll say it again
The color of the grass. If you haven't guessed by now, then that is very bad.
Note: I'm getting bored; there's just too much to list. I should pick a rarer color next time. Maybe then I'll be more creative.
Past, Present and Future
Prompt: Spend at least 15 minutes writing about your interpretation of this quote (or write a short story using this quote as a motto or path for your main character): "The past is a ghost, the future a dream. All we ever have is now." ~Bill Cosby
Note: If you don't know the Silmarillion, chances are you won't understand a word of this story.
"I want to give you a second chance."
That's what he'd said, the foolish cousin. Bitterly, Maedhros felt his brow furrowing. His single hand was poised beneath his chin, supporting the weight of his strong jaw as he gazed out the window onto the hazy wasteland that was their battlefield. Whoever had allowed Finrod to get such a foolish notion in his head was an imbecile. The only thing that second chance had done was gotten him killed.
He always was too sweet and kind, too forgiving. Maedhros couldn't even find it within his empty heart and battered, broken fragments of emotion to feel bad about the elf's death; he'd brought it down upon himself as surely as each and every one of them had sealed the fate on their own suffering. Besides, Maedhros didn't have time for pity.
"What are you thinking about?"
Golden eyes drifted away from the bleak, demoralizing world outside to meet glimmering silver. Maglor was smiling, but it was fake and hollow. Those silver eyes never stopped looking sad nowadays.
"Second chances," he replied, looking back out the window. Seeing his brother's pained eyes bothered him more than he would have liked.
Had he been looking, he would have seen the frown on his brother's face. "Still about Findarato...?"
Maedhros grunted; he didn't feel like speaking honestly. And he hated how well Maglor could read him. No lie that passed his lips ever tiptoed its way past the keen ears of his younger brother. Maybe it had something to do with being a bard. Maedhros didn't much care, as long as he could avoid a scolding from the other elf.
After all, Maglor was the only one who could make him feel guilty, the only one who knew him well enough to pull all the right strings, playing him every bit as skillfully as the bard's hands played a guilded harp. He hated it.
A tense silence settled over them. Neither was going to move, both too obstinate. Finally, Maedhros broke, sick of having his baby brother hanging over his shoulder. "He was an idiot."
"Says you."
"Says everyone."
"So pessimistic, you are, Nely--"
"I told you not to call me that," Maedhros interrupted. "That is not my name."
Maglor was unaffected by the glare he sent across the neutral space between them. The bard was never affected by his stares or by his scowls or the harsh tones of his words. It was as if Maglor blithely ignored them all.
"Findarato was not an idiot. I think his philosophy was rather admirable. You should be grateful that he held us in high enough esteem to allow--"
"I should be grateful?" Maedhros cut his brother off with a snarl. "Should I be grateful that because of his idiocy he is dead, along with two of my brothers, and Nargothrand now lies in the hands of a weak-minded fool being led around by the nose... by a man, too... shameful."
With a sigh, his brother leaned against the pillar of the window, hair swishing back from his face with the hot, arid breeze while his arms crossed over his lithe chest. "You never used to be so bitter, Maedhros."
"You never used to be so hare-brained. As if Findarato's 'second chance' could ever change anything. His naivety astounds me!" Maedhros snorted, tossing back his auburn hair, blazing golden eyes focused on the current source of his ire. "Second chances do not exist. Nothing he could have done would have changed anything, not the past, not the future, no fate. Do you not remember what--?"
"I remember everything." It was strange to hear Maglor's velvety, gentle voice so harsh, rasping with restrainted emotion. "I do not forget. Still... still..." The spike of visceral emotion dissipated. "Still, I wish you would try to see things from his perspective. He was only trying to help."
"And Morgoth is only trying to restore peace to all of Ea."
Maglor's eyebrow twitched. Maedhros found himself smirking triumphantly. Even though he would probably lose this game to his philosophical, genius of a baby brother, at least he could pluck some of the other elf's strings in vengeance of his mistreated ego.
"You just do not understand, do you? You are so convinced that there is nothing we can do--"
"There is not."
"--to change our supposed 'destiny' that you sit and wallow here like a lazy old donkey."
"Did you just call me a jacka$$, little brother?"
"Just shut up and listen!"
Oh, now he is angry... Maedhros leaned back, deciding to play it safe for now, and brushed the fingers of his left hand absently through the tangled curls of his fiery red hair.
"Maybe we cannot change what has been done, but that does not mean we should continue down a path of damnation willingly, like pigs led to slaughter!" Maglor's passion was all in his eyes and the hard set of his full lips and the clench of his square jaw. "Why will you not see reason, brother? We do not need to set out and chase after some ridiculous glowing jewel."
"But Feanor--"
"Feanor this and Feanor that," Maglor mocked. "You have been like this ever since we left Menegroth. Quit being a fool and open your eyes for once, Nelyo. We have a chance to change our fate!"
Ridiculous. Absolutely ludicrous. What is he harping on about now? "We cannot," he growled. "We cannot change the past and we cannot change the future. You wonder why I sit and stare out this filthy window day-in and day-out? It is because there is nothing--nothing--out there waiting for us but death and suffering. Why should I want to part myself from the moment for that?"
"You are wrong."
"No, I am not." He knew he couldn't win this argument, not against Maglor, who was as stubborn as he was and five times as fiery with passion and determination. "Dinner will be ready soon; we should cease discussing such a useless subject."
"You just want to avoid thinking about it, about the possibility that you are wrong!"
"Maglor, stop it..."
But his brother wasn't going to stop. Silver eyes were bright as stars, all too reminiscent of another pair of fiery silver eyes as they glared down at him. "You just cannot accept that you might be wrong, can you? You cannot accept that everything we have done up until now has been for nothing--"
"Maglor, stop!"
"--and that everyone has died for nothing. That all those poor people in Menegroth and Alqualonde died for nothing!"
"Shut up!"
A stricken look crossed Maglor's face. It was painful to look at. Even as detached as he was from the world around him, the heat and intensity of the despair hiding just beneath the sheen of tears that would never fall ate away at the part of him he was desperately stifling. "It does not matter," he gasped out softly, panting between his parched, cracked lips. "I will see you in an hour, brother."
"You are wrong, though..."
"I am not." Maedhros paused halfway through the doorway, hand poised on the rough stone, nails digging into the craggy surface. "The past is nothing but a ghost and the future is nothing but a dream. There is not anything waiting there for either of us. We are here, where we are supposed to be, and when the end comes we will be where fate dictates, and nothing you do can change that."
Maybe it was cynical of him, maybe even hypocritical. But he didn't allow himself to dream of a future that was anything but what it was. In his dreams, the future was a nightmare of blood and fire that ended in nothing but darkness.
With one last backwards glance at Maglor, he left the room, yanking his cloak down to cover the mutilated remains of his right hand, the single greatest reminder of the ghost that was the past.
Had he stayed, he would have seen the tiny little tear that glimmered on the edge of his brother's lip, dark lashes. "You are right, the future is a dream. It is a dream of whatever you want it to be, you fool."
But then, the two were fundamentally different at the core. Maedhros had always believed his younger brother to be too much of a dreamer.
Note: I'm not sure if this is sappy or angsty or what the hell it is. It's 12:30 and I'm too tired to think about my own insanity right now.
Note: If you don't know the Silmarillion, chances are you won't understand a word of this story.
"I want to give you a second chance."
That's what he'd said, the foolish cousin. Bitterly, Maedhros felt his brow furrowing. His single hand was poised beneath his chin, supporting the weight of his strong jaw as he gazed out the window onto the hazy wasteland that was their battlefield. Whoever had allowed Finrod to get such a foolish notion in his head was an imbecile. The only thing that second chance had done was gotten him killed.
He always was too sweet and kind, too forgiving. Maedhros couldn't even find it within his empty heart and battered, broken fragments of emotion to feel bad about the elf's death; he'd brought it down upon himself as surely as each and every one of them had sealed the fate on their own suffering. Besides, Maedhros didn't have time for pity.
"What are you thinking about?"
Golden eyes drifted away from the bleak, demoralizing world outside to meet glimmering silver. Maglor was smiling, but it was fake and hollow. Those silver eyes never stopped looking sad nowadays.
"Second chances," he replied, looking back out the window. Seeing his brother's pained eyes bothered him more than he would have liked.
Had he been looking, he would have seen the frown on his brother's face. "Still about Findarato...?"
Maedhros grunted; he didn't feel like speaking honestly. And he hated how well Maglor could read him. No lie that passed his lips ever tiptoed its way past the keen ears of his younger brother. Maybe it had something to do with being a bard. Maedhros didn't much care, as long as he could avoid a scolding from the other elf.
After all, Maglor was the only one who could make him feel guilty, the only one who knew him well enough to pull all the right strings, playing him every bit as skillfully as the bard's hands played a guilded harp. He hated it.
A tense silence settled over them. Neither was going to move, both too obstinate. Finally, Maedhros broke, sick of having his baby brother hanging over his shoulder. "He was an idiot."
"Says you."
"Says everyone."
"So pessimistic, you are, Nely--"
"I told you not to call me that," Maedhros interrupted. "That is not my name."
Maglor was unaffected by the glare he sent across the neutral space between them. The bard was never affected by his stares or by his scowls or the harsh tones of his words. It was as if Maglor blithely ignored them all.
"Findarato was not an idiot. I think his philosophy was rather admirable. You should be grateful that he held us in high enough esteem to allow--"
"I should be grateful?" Maedhros cut his brother off with a snarl. "Should I be grateful that because of his idiocy he is dead, along with two of my brothers, and Nargothrand now lies in the hands of a weak-minded fool being led around by the nose... by a man, too... shameful."
With a sigh, his brother leaned against the pillar of the window, hair swishing back from his face with the hot, arid breeze while his arms crossed over his lithe chest. "You never used to be so bitter, Maedhros."
"You never used to be so hare-brained. As if Findarato's 'second chance' could ever change anything. His naivety astounds me!" Maedhros snorted, tossing back his auburn hair, blazing golden eyes focused on the current source of his ire. "Second chances do not exist. Nothing he could have done would have changed anything, not the past, not the future, no fate. Do you not remember what--?"
"I remember everything." It was strange to hear Maglor's velvety, gentle voice so harsh, rasping with restrainted emotion. "I do not forget. Still... still..." The spike of visceral emotion dissipated. "Still, I wish you would try to see things from his perspective. He was only trying to help."
"And Morgoth is only trying to restore peace to all of Ea."
Maglor's eyebrow twitched. Maedhros found himself smirking triumphantly. Even though he would probably lose this game to his philosophical, genius of a baby brother, at least he could pluck some of the other elf's strings in vengeance of his mistreated ego.
"You just do not understand, do you? You are so convinced that there is nothing we can do--"
"There is not."
"--to change our supposed 'destiny' that you sit and wallow here like a lazy old donkey."
"Did you just call me a jacka$$, little brother?"
"Just shut up and listen!"
Oh, now he is angry... Maedhros leaned back, deciding to play it safe for now, and brushed the fingers of his left hand absently through the tangled curls of his fiery red hair.
"Maybe we cannot change what has been done, but that does not mean we should continue down a path of damnation willingly, like pigs led to slaughter!" Maglor's passion was all in his eyes and the hard set of his full lips and the clench of his square jaw. "Why will you not see reason, brother? We do not need to set out and chase after some ridiculous glowing jewel."
"But Feanor--"
"Feanor this and Feanor that," Maglor mocked. "You have been like this ever since we left Menegroth. Quit being a fool and open your eyes for once, Nelyo. We have a chance to change our fate!"
Ridiculous. Absolutely ludicrous. What is he harping on about now? "We cannot," he growled. "We cannot change the past and we cannot change the future. You wonder why I sit and stare out this filthy window day-in and day-out? It is because there is nothing--nothing--out there waiting for us but death and suffering. Why should I want to part myself from the moment for that?"
"You are wrong."
"No, I am not." He knew he couldn't win this argument, not against Maglor, who was as stubborn as he was and five times as fiery with passion and determination. "Dinner will be ready soon; we should cease discussing such a useless subject."
"You just want to avoid thinking about it, about the possibility that you are wrong!"
"Maglor, stop it..."
But his brother wasn't going to stop. Silver eyes were bright as stars, all too reminiscent of another pair of fiery silver eyes as they glared down at him. "You just cannot accept that you might be wrong, can you? You cannot accept that everything we have done up until now has been for nothing--"
"Maglor, stop!"
"--and that everyone has died for nothing. That all those poor people in Menegroth and Alqualonde died for nothing!"
"Shut up!"
A stricken look crossed Maglor's face. It was painful to look at. Even as detached as he was from the world around him, the heat and intensity of the despair hiding just beneath the sheen of tears that would never fall ate away at the part of him he was desperately stifling. "It does not matter," he gasped out softly, panting between his parched, cracked lips. "I will see you in an hour, brother."
"You are wrong, though..."
"I am not." Maedhros paused halfway through the doorway, hand poised on the rough stone, nails digging into the craggy surface. "The past is nothing but a ghost and the future is nothing but a dream. There is not anything waiting there for either of us. We are here, where we are supposed to be, and when the end comes we will be where fate dictates, and nothing you do can change that."
Maybe it was cynical of him, maybe even hypocritical. But he didn't allow himself to dream of a future that was anything but what it was. In his dreams, the future was a nightmare of blood and fire that ended in nothing but darkness.
With one last backwards glance at Maglor, he left the room, yanking his cloak down to cover the mutilated remains of his right hand, the single greatest reminder of the ghost that was the past.
Had he stayed, he would have seen the tiny little tear that glimmered on the edge of his brother's lip, dark lashes. "You are right, the future is a dream. It is a dream of whatever you want it to be, you fool."
But then, the two were fundamentally different at the core. Maedhros had always believed his younger brother to be too much of a dreamer.
Note: I'm not sure if this is sappy or angsty or what the hell it is. It's 12:30 and I'm too tired to think about my own insanity right now.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Stream of Consciousness: Seal the Wind
Prompt: write a five-minute stream of consciousness
Seal the Wind
Yuna
FFX-2
beautiful
flying
gentle
raindrops
little diamonds glittering in the faintest of lights
hope
romance
my feet feel like they come off the ground whenever I play it
absolutely glorious melody
seven flats... yeah, you bet it's hard to play
first time doing two-against-three
more difficult than it sounds, trust me
but totally worth it
song I played in my personal narrative
oh dear, that thing... do I really have to talk about that in front of everyone?
oh well,
back to the music, huh?
it's always reminded me of stars
I often have images of my favorite couples dancing to it with the girl in a silver dress and her eyes closed... I'm not really sure why
and no, it's never me... I hate dancing
climax of the piece makes my skin shudder with pure delight
funny, I've never imaged Yuna and Tidus dancing to it
but I hate Tidus
I would never associate him with something so beautiful
Roxy ruined him for me, meh
first recital piece at the music school downtown
moonflowers
don't ask
dark blue, violet, deep pink and magenta
silver, gold, diamonds, stars, moonlight on the grass, dappling the bottom of the pool through the refracting water
Luna
moon... it reminds me of the moon
something about the color silver
melody dances over the harmony
rings like a pure little bell... you know I love pure sounds, so dolce and brilliant
starts on a G-flat
left hand does all the word. arpeggios and runs galore; it never stops moving
took forever to learn
worth it
I should make an oil-pastel in tribute to it; I can't do it justice with words alone
Note: finite
Seal the Wind
Yuna
FFX-2
beautiful
flying
gentle
raindrops
little diamonds glittering in the faintest of lights
hope
romance
my feet feel like they come off the ground whenever I play it
absolutely glorious melody
seven flats... yeah, you bet it's hard to play
first time doing two-against-three
more difficult than it sounds, trust me
but totally worth it
song I played in my personal narrative
oh dear, that thing... do I really have to talk about that in front of everyone?
oh well,
back to the music, huh?
it's always reminded me of stars
I often have images of my favorite couples dancing to it with the girl in a silver dress and her eyes closed... I'm not really sure why
and no, it's never me... I hate dancing
climax of the piece makes my skin shudder with pure delight
funny, I've never imaged Yuna and Tidus dancing to it
but I hate Tidus
I would never associate him with something so beautiful
Roxy ruined him for me, meh
first recital piece at the music school downtown
moonflowers
don't ask
dark blue, violet, deep pink and magenta
silver, gold, diamonds, stars, moonlight on the grass, dappling the bottom of the pool through the refracting water
Luna
moon... it reminds me of the moon
something about the color silver
melody dances over the harmony
rings like a pure little bell... you know I love pure sounds, so dolce and brilliant
starts on a G-flat
left hand does all the word. arpeggios and runs galore; it never stops moving
took forever to learn
worth it
I should make an oil-pastel in tribute to it; I can't do it justice with words alone
Note: finite
Sweetness Between Silences
Prompt: write a poem utilizing the phrase "between silences"
So many things happen
between the silences
You hear my voice, don't you?
The plip-plop of raindrops against your bedroom window
The gentle strums of a guitar being played on your neighbor's porch
The sound of little kids playing down the street
It seems like everything happens between silences
Because the silences are the stillness
The nothingness and emptiness
The days when you stare blankly at your white-washed ceiling
You don't want to move
You just want... to think... and breathe... and be
You want to be silent.
But then you hear the soft rumbling purr of the cat
as she curls up against the curve of your waist
and buries her soft head into your belly, her tail twitching
flicking softly across your hand
The whistling soprano of the flute coming from the room next to yours
delicate, sweet and pure, like the fluttering of a heartbeat
Racing, racing... ba-dum... ba-dum...
breaking the silence over and over again
I love the silence
But even the silence cannot compare to the dolce of the piano
when the drifting, rolling chords are strummed by nimble fingers
What is the lack of sound compared to such?
Silence is sweet in of itself
but between silences is oftentimes sweeter still
Note: meh... sappy again... I'm too tired...
So many things happen
between the silences
You hear my voice, don't you?
The plip-plop of raindrops against your bedroom window
The gentle strums of a guitar being played on your neighbor's porch
The sound of little kids playing down the street
It seems like everything happens between silences
Because the silences are the stillness
The nothingness and emptiness
The days when you stare blankly at your white-washed ceiling
You don't want to move
You just want... to think... and breathe... and be
You want to be silent.
But then you hear the soft rumbling purr of the cat
as she curls up against the curve of your waist
and buries her soft head into your belly, her tail twitching
flicking softly across your hand
The whistling soprano of the flute coming from the room next to yours
delicate, sweet and pure, like the fluttering of a heartbeat
Racing, racing... ba-dum... ba-dum...
breaking the silence over and over again
I love the silence
But even the silence cannot compare to the dolce of the piano
when the drifting, rolling chords are strummed by nimble fingers
What is the lack of sound compared to such?
Silence is sweet in of itself
but between silences is oftentimes sweeter still
Note: meh... sappy again... I'm too tired...
Clair de Lune
Prompt: there really isn't one. This is just my way of geeking out.
I'm sure most of you (if anyone is reading this) have heard of the song Clair de Lune by Debussey. I always wanted to listen to it when I first heard the name because, hey, it's my name in there, you know? Well, of course, it was named before me, but that's beside the point.
It's one of the most popular, well-known piano instrumental pieces around. I even heard it being played in the bookstore a couple of weeks ago. It took me a few minutes to figure out what it was, though. I must've been tired, heh.
Anyway, I picked up the sheet music for it again today. It's an absolutely breathtaking song (which is probably the reason why so many people are in love with it), but one that I've never actually learned all the way through. I have started learning it and, with my busy schedule, have left it unfinished for almost an entire year now... until today, at least.
You'd be shocked how much a difference a year makes... well, anyway...
I guess the thing the song reminds me of most is water. The beginning is like floating... like floating on a crystal clear lake with nothing around for miles and miles, the silence only broken by the soft swishing of the ebb and flow of the water around you. I can imagine my fingertips just breaking the surface and watching the silvery ripples flow outwards from the point of contact, making those beautiful little rings that you see in animated movies that shimmer and bounce off one another. I think that's part of why people love it so much, is that the beginning captivates you completely right from the get-go. Truly genius.
Then there are the raindrops. Well, I wouldn't describe them precisely as raindrops. They sound like soft little impacts, more like groups of droplets falling into the water all together, disturbing the surface with their distinct patterns, yet not being invasive. It's very hard to explain, but the part with the octaves is one of my favorite parts of the entire piece, even more so than the rippling, swift and flowing progressions of sixteenth notes that follow. It makes me think of golden and silver light bouncing on a dark background.
Not to say, of course, that the sixteenth notes aren't beautiful. They're very hard to play correctly, bringing out the hidden melody within their flowing harmony, like the strings of a harp constantly strumming, waving back and forth... back and forth... Maybe the reason I instantly think of water when I hear this is because it sounds very reminiscent of a song called Watermark by Enya. That, too, is a beautiful piece (and you should listen to it if you ever get the chance to. Some of her world is simply gorgeous, but it's not everyone's cup of tea. She sings a lot in Latin, which I love.) There's this one part, though... da-da-da (down one tone) da-da-da (down one tone) da-da-da (up one tone) da-da-da daaaa..... I don't know, but that definitely struck me as raindrops falling into a still pool, like when you see those slow-motion videos of droplets of water hitting a stationary (or as stationary as water can be) surface, the backlash diamond droplet flying upwards in a glimmering arch as tiny waves branch outwards.
I just love this piece. I love the entire thing, a true rarity, to be sure. If you've never heard it, you should listen to it. I don't think I do it justice as all, but there you have it. After all, how could I explain in words what is expressed quite intently through the musical genius of another? Sometimes, music just can't be put into words. You have to hear it to believe it.
Here I am, getting philosophical... I think I need sleep before I get even more sappy. This is all I'm going to write for now, except to say that many of Debussey's pieces are phenomenal (such as the Prelude de Pour le Piano) and should be treasured. They're certainly something else.
I'm sure most of you (if anyone is reading this) have heard of the song Clair de Lune by Debussey. I always wanted to listen to it when I first heard the name because, hey, it's my name in there, you know? Well, of course, it was named before me, but that's beside the point.
It's one of the most popular, well-known piano instrumental pieces around. I even heard it being played in the bookstore a couple of weeks ago. It took me a few minutes to figure out what it was, though. I must've been tired, heh.
Anyway, I picked up the sheet music for it again today. It's an absolutely breathtaking song (which is probably the reason why so many people are in love with it), but one that I've never actually learned all the way through. I have started learning it and, with my busy schedule, have left it unfinished for almost an entire year now... until today, at least.
You'd be shocked how much a difference a year makes... well, anyway...
I guess the thing the song reminds me of most is water. The beginning is like floating... like floating on a crystal clear lake with nothing around for miles and miles, the silence only broken by the soft swishing of the ebb and flow of the water around you. I can imagine my fingertips just breaking the surface and watching the silvery ripples flow outwards from the point of contact, making those beautiful little rings that you see in animated movies that shimmer and bounce off one another. I think that's part of why people love it so much, is that the beginning captivates you completely right from the get-go. Truly genius.
Then there are the raindrops. Well, I wouldn't describe them precisely as raindrops. They sound like soft little impacts, more like groups of droplets falling into the water all together, disturbing the surface with their distinct patterns, yet not being invasive. It's very hard to explain, but the part with the octaves is one of my favorite parts of the entire piece, even more so than the rippling, swift and flowing progressions of sixteenth notes that follow. It makes me think of golden and silver light bouncing on a dark background.
Not to say, of course, that the sixteenth notes aren't beautiful. They're very hard to play correctly, bringing out the hidden melody within their flowing harmony, like the strings of a harp constantly strumming, waving back and forth... back and forth... Maybe the reason I instantly think of water when I hear this is because it sounds very reminiscent of a song called Watermark by Enya. That, too, is a beautiful piece (and you should listen to it if you ever get the chance to. Some of her world is simply gorgeous, but it's not everyone's cup of tea. She sings a lot in Latin, which I love.) There's this one part, though... da-da-da (down one tone) da-da-da (down one tone) da-da-da (up one tone) da-da-da daaaa..... I don't know, but that definitely struck me as raindrops falling into a still pool, like when you see those slow-motion videos of droplets of water hitting a stationary (or as stationary as water can be) surface, the backlash diamond droplet flying upwards in a glimmering arch as tiny waves branch outwards.
I just love this piece. I love the entire thing, a true rarity, to be sure. If you've never heard it, you should listen to it. I don't think I do it justice as all, but there you have it. After all, how could I explain in words what is expressed quite intently through the musical genius of another? Sometimes, music just can't be put into words. You have to hear it to believe it.
Here I am, getting philosophical... I think I need sleep before I get even more sappy. This is all I'm going to write for now, except to say that many of Debussey's pieces are phenomenal (such as the Prelude de Pour le Piano) and should be treasured. They're certainly something else.
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