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Video of the Week

Posted by Nazē.  Icon, 08 August 2008 - 12:34 AM

O hai!

So. Last week. I decided. I would put a new cool video in my sig. Every Thursday.

So. Today. I decided to put it in my blog as well. ;D

This week's. Is a short film. It's worth watching.



Posted by Nazē.  Icon, 03 June 2008 - 12:25 AM

Note before entry: the reason why I haven't blogged here in... a while is because I have elsewhere I post different stuff blog-related. xD For example, my actual journal about normal life-y stuff. MySpace for when inspiration of some sort, good or bad, seeks a release. And again somewhere else for things that just don't belong anywhere else.

However. I posted an entry on MySpace a couple months ago (maybe one month ago?) that I took down shortly after. I still have it saved, so I figured. I should post it here. xD


What are we without inspiration? Among all, who are the dreamers, and who are the realists? Are dreams often more real than a mundane life lived in the absence of a glowing moon over flowing ink?

My mind grows frustrated with the continued lack of something solid and unbreakable, something to be for, something born free and beautiful. Images flash and flicker constantly, in the darkest minutes of the planet and in the burning light of a lamp. Why do they simply flicker? An image of an open book, leatherbound and stained, the thick pages rippled with age old words, fragments of pieces a soul wrote hundreds, thousands of years ago.

And then it's gone. I am pulled back, with a weary sense of anger, to the life of this day and age, flourescent lighting and loud noises. Where is the romance? It seems we live in a world driven by materialistic needs of humans, as opposed to a softer, yet harsher reality filled with the wants of our spirits.

I feel lost at the thought of standing at the tip of a world where inspiration is but a fickle thing for fickle art. Dissatisfied and uncomfortable, claustrophobic within my thoughts. Something rips within, like a wisher that has lost hope before blowing out the flames. I fear emotion is degraded to something frail. Is that not our core? Glowing, writhing and awake, yet dying?

Perhaps I am simply seeing life through a foggy mirror, Shalott spread beneath me. Perhaps I make sense to myself only, and perhaps I am selfishly overlooking reality. Is reality all there is? Can one not learn so much more from a dream?


Posted by Nazē.  Icon, 04 December 2007 - 04:35 AM

Oh my God.

If anyone... I'unno... perhaps has information on how she was -faking- that somehow... -please- reply and inform me of it. It'd really be a relief. I refuse to believe that. It has to be false. That... she -can't-... *Baffled*

How 'Bout a List?

Posted by Nazē.  Icon, 25 November 2007 - 04:50 PM

I can always look back on entries and realize my inspiration to blog probably either came from rain, or Libba Bray. If you don't know, (tsk) she is the writer of the Great and Terrible Beauty series, the third book coming out on the 26th of December. (26th, 26th, 26th... *Mindless mutter*)

Not only does her writing inspire me to write, and have a plot of my own, something that I made, but her blog entries are like little presents that make you go "OOH! SHINY, AND IT ISN'T CHRISTMAS!" She's awesome. A wonderful person and a great writer.

So anyway, now that the four-day weekend is drawing to a close, I thought I'd summarize it a bit. Y'know, the typical "I'm grateful for this and this and this" list, except three days late. The ranting on about how much time was wasted during the holiday, even though it'll surely be done again in a heartbeat. The usual.

So in maybe-a-little-order, I'm grateful for:

- The Baha'i Faith.
- A life that is in so much more quality than a survivor living in the Middle East, with no food to give to their children.
- My mother, and my best friend. Should something happen to her, I will be a madwoman roaming some crowded subway station, screaching curses to anyone who dares to approach. I am not kidding! *Growl*
- Family, friends, and anyone who is connected to me somehow, whether it be with a passing glance on the street, or mere MSN conversations that make us closer.
- I am grateful for internet friends, especially. They are cooler than most people I'd ever hope to meet on the streets. Varied and insane. But cool!
- MSN.
- CurvedSpace. What a cool place.
- Icanhascheezburger. What a cool place.
- Minimal sexism and racism than millions living in places like Saudi Arabia. I shouldn't be complaining half as much as I do about people who attribute all bad driving to women, when there are young girls being prisoned and tortured for being raped. *Shame*
- Books. Pens. And notebooks. <3
- Epi. Though your Altzheimer's is getting pretty bad now, I'll still love you forever. :gonk: (*Cough* Yeah, I do have a close relationship with my laptop. Jealous? Thought so. ;D)
- Lists.
- Coffee. With sugar and creamer. Looots and lots of sugar and creamer. <3
- Forgiveness. What a beautiful thing.
- Nice people. I can't help it. They're awesome. Whoever they are, wherever they are. Nice people make me want to smile and hug them and be happy the rest of the day.
- Hugs.
- Late-night ponderings. Through the clouds of homework and midnight stress, I've had some good times thinking the strangest things.
- Blogs.
- Music.
- And weekend mornings spent with a ticking clock.

These should be done more often, rather than just Thanksgiving. Maybe I'll post one quarterly, to shame my conscience into a more productive life. Not that it'd ever work. ;D


Posted by Nazē.  Icon, 12 November 2007 - 10:54 PM

Less than an hour ago I remembered a forgotten diary. After finding it, I opened it and was lost in the past for some minutes, reading the thoughts of a girl fading in the days. In a way, we are not really who we were in the past, after all. Two people, if sharing at least one different characteristic, are considered different, are they not? Memories shape our lives, and how we walk through them.

It is an interesting thing to willingly give in to the possibilities of what a past could have held, and how. As we remember old thoughts, old ways, do we not keep some new wisdom, some different outlook, right beside them? How many things would we have done differently if, back then, we had known what we know today? Indeed, is that not the point of experiences? Without learning, life is nothing but a continuous stretch of a barren road. It is like being stuck in a shielded box, and yet, not knowing it.

And what could we know right now, that we shall in due time? Decisions will be made, of course, things jotted down, words spoken. But would they be the same if we knew every outcome? It is a tricky thing to anticipate those. Unexpected courses are everywhere. Who will stumble over them, and who will even reach them? Who will be able to fly over them, look back in triumph and a slight smile, and be proud of what they'd done?

Without knowing, it is a fog that veils everything. But refusing to know is to be the lie.


Posted by Nazē.  Icon, 05 October 2007 - 06:16 PM

Updated Album of Doom and Exposition. Go look at pictures!

Some Days

Posted by Nazē.  Icon, 20 September 2007 - 03:56 AM

There are few things more frustrating than needing more time, more hours in a day, more hours of nighttime, more days free, more days doing nothing but comforting things like reading a book and daydreaming in intervals. Yes, for me there is comfort in reading at home, like a kind of safety shield. It's something close to me, where there are no restrictions of time, strangers. No matter how much I realize I do not really care much about said stranger's thoughts concerning myself, it is harder to control the restlessness that comes with being surrounded by people all the time, like walking in an ever-moving pool of bodies, laughter, talk. It's all around, and there's no time for anything else.

It's one of those days where music seems too loud, and sends me into a state where I want to cry because of the overwhelmingness of everything, and then it's too soft. Some days are too loud.

It feels odd to be very honestly open in anything but a journal.

Truth and Beauty Bombs

Posted by Nazē.  Icon, 16 September 2007 - 02:34 AM

I bought a role of black and white film today and took a few pictures with a ten year old camera that might just not work. It's a whole lot of fun, but it'll be embarrassing to take them to get developed, because of the possibility of an old camera's faults, and overexposed pictures, and then the people who develop the photos chuckling silently and smirking at it. And the place I got the role also develops and also sells black and white disposable cameras! It's my new awesome place in this city where there isn't a bookstore.

I want this shirt. The first one. The one about truth and beauty bombs. Want. WANT. It's made of awesome, I'm telling you.


Posted by Nazē.  Icon, 15 September 2007 - 01:22 AM

I want a magical swingset that plays music when it swings. And the music is also magical, it transforms the sky to grey and the world to black and white. The only colour would be the music, and silvery raindrops.

And then, when the swingset stops swinging, the music goes on.

I guess I just want a roll of black and white film for now.

Sweet Dreams and Sleep Well

Posted by Nazē.  Icon, 11 September 2007 - 04:51 AM

A whirlwind of seconds, hours, minutes, days, and people hopped into my mind. The whirlwind is also known as the past week. During this, I let my concentration stray so far tonight that I confidently strode to my fridge, opened it and pulled out one of those cabbage-balls, and tore off pieces so that a plate was piled high with them. It wasn't really cabbage, it was lettuce. This is quite unflattering to my concentration at the time, as I remember thinking "I love the sound of lettuce tearing." I then strode confidentally back to my room and promptly ate some (only then realizing what I was eating was not cabbage), even though lettuce is actually quite annoying to eat by itself. Such is the cruel ways of the whirlwind.

I feel like writing something beautiful and terrible. I want to create something in the middle of a storm, with the wind whistling loudly, and be enchanted by it. I want to learn to play the piano, and in the middle of the night, compose music dark and powerful and soft all at the same time with the beat of the rain. I don't know. I want to be that. I want to be in the magic of words and thoughts lost between roads, in the middle of thunder.

Laundry's done.
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