Everyone leaves. Last year's seniors were fine. I didn't know any of them, so it made little difference to me. But this year, I know some, meaning I will miss some. Joey, Trevor, Cory. What are band concerts going to be like without Cory's solos, or Joey's quirkiness? Where are the inappropriate sexual innuendos going to come from? I'm terrible at goodbyes. I've come around to the idea that after the seniors graduate the week after next, I'm most likely never going to see them again. Ever.
I've let each day of this year pass with such apathy, and then when I need them the most, there are none left to hold on to. I've let my year be about this summer, this blessed summer, but that was my ultimate folly. I let the day pass on its own accord and welcomed the night, when my only company was my own thoughts.
We act like we are immortal. I'm am not the only culprit in this crime. We all are. We let hours pass as though they may be made up at a later date, yet we are only given this one moment. Tomorrow is not promised. The dawn, the stars, the moon are not promised. Our whole life amounts to this one moment. How should we fill it?
Every moment of your life does not need profound thoughts or righteous deeds. A life that abstains from simply looking at a rose or the clouds is a life wasted. I am only saying, make today about something. It is not these years that define us, but the days. We have a world of opportunity at our fingertips, but what use is it if we do not grasp it.
I've let each day of this year pass with such apathy, and then when I need them the most, there are none left to hold on to. I've let my year be about this summer, this blessed summer, but that was my ultimate folly. I let the day pass on its own accord and welcomed the night, when my only company was my own thoughts.
We act like we are immortal. I'm am not the only culprit in this crime. We all are. We let hours pass as though they may be made up at a later date, yet we are only given this one moment. Tomorrow is not promised. The dawn, the stars, the moon are not promised. Our whole life amounts to this one moment. How should we fill it?
Every moment of your life does not need profound thoughts or righteous deeds. A life that abstains from simply looking at a rose or the clouds is a life wasted. I am only saying, make today about something. It is not these years that define us, but the days. We have a world of opportunity at our fingertips, but what use is it if we do not grasp it.
We're Doing Trig in Algebra, So...
0 Comments Published by Elentine on Tuesday, May 22, 2007 at 10:59 PM.
I write fanfiction!! Here's the first chapter, and the linkage to my fanfiction.net page is... http://www.fanfiction.net/~elentine I know you don't care, but there it is. It's my new guilty pleasure. (Oh, and by the way, I'm trying to avoid any Mary-Suishness, but if I fall into that trap, I'm terribly sorry). This fanfic is also proof that I may be able to write blogs well, but fiction...that's another story.
Cynthrine lay motionless in her cabin, her eyes watching the fire dance in the hearth. It was the first snow of the season in the Colovian Highlands, and all manner of creatures sat in wondrous silence. Her hand, rough from blade and time, moved to the pendant that hung about her neck. The center Varla stone glowed brightly in the flickering light. It has been fifty years since it had come into her possession, and since, she has not aged a day, though the wisdom of the passing years and the burden of all that she has seen is apparent on her face. Her hands are still rough and callused, her body is stilled riddled with scars, and her eyes give the look of one who has seen far too much, though Time’s harsh hand has not touched her.
She stirred and climbed out of the bed sheets. Her cloak lay on a chest that was placed at the foot of the bed. She wrapped it about her shoulders, then slipped her feet into thick, fur boots. Moving to the door, she cracked it but an inch, and was bit with a fierce cold.
The door on frozen hinges creaked open. The landscape was not yet alabaster, but a dream-like state had fallen upon it. Not a bird nor bush nor bandit stirred. Such moments in Colovia were hard to come by and were short lived when they did. Cynthrine grabbed her walking stick and on her belt fastened only a small, Elvish dagger. “Come, Talos,” she called to the white wolf resting beneath the hearth. “Let’s take a walk.” The dog, old in years yet still strong in jaw, rose and stretched, knowing full well that a walk was never just that.
Eight years prior, Cynthrine traveled to Cloud Ruler Temple to greet new Blades and to exchange tales with old friends. As a token of their continued appreciation for all her services, they granted Cynthrine with Talos, a pup they had found wandering near the fortress. Smart and eager though he was, he made for a burden in the first year. After then, he grew to hold his own against beasts and assisted Cynthrine in the hunt. He was her dear friend and had without a doubt saved her life on several occasions.
Talos eyed his master with baleful eyes, wanting to sleep before a warm fire rather than venture into the frigid wilds. Her eyes, however, were upon the landscape, on the horizon that lay beyond the veil of clouds. There was a gleam in her eye, a desire for adventure. Motionless she stood, as the cold enveloped her and the snow drifted inside. Finally, she moved, but only to remove the knife from her belt and replace it instead with a longsword of similar Elven style. Talos savored the feeling of the soft bear pelt beneath his paws, for he now knew he would not be feeling it again for some time.
Cynthrine lay motionless in her cabin, her eyes watching the fire dance in the hearth. It was the first snow of the season in the Colovian Highlands, and all manner of creatures sat in wondrous silence. Her hand, rough from blade and time, moved to the pendant that hung about her neck. The center Varla stone glowed brightly in the flickering light. It has been fifty years since it had come into her possession, and since, she has not aged a day, though the wisdom of the passing years and the burden of all that she has seen is apparent on her face. Her hands are still rough and callused, her body is stilled riddled with scars, and her eyes give the look of one who has seen far too much, though Time’s harsh hand has not touched her.
She stirred and climbed out of the bed sheets. Her cloak lay on a chest that was placed at the foot of the bed. She wrapped it about her shoulders, then slipped her feet into thick, fur boots. Moving to the door, she cracked it but an inch, and was bit with a fierce cold.
The door on frozen hinges creaked open. The landscape was not yet alabaster, but a dream-like state had fallen upon it. Not a bird nor bush nor bandit stirred. Such moments in Colovia were hard to come by and were short lived when they did. Cynthrine grabbed her walking stick and on her belt fastened only a small, Elvish dagger. “Come, Talos,” she called to the white wolf resting beneath the hearth. “Let’s take a walk.” The dog, old in years yet still strong in jaw, rose and stretched, knowing full well that a walk was never just that.
Eight years prior, Cynthrine traveled to Cloud Ruler Temple to greet new Blades and to exchange tales with old friends. As a token of their continued appreciation for all her services, they granted Cynthrine with Talos, a pup they had found wandering near the fortress. Smart and eager though he was, he made for a burden in the first year. After then, he grew to hold his own against beasts and assisted Cynthrine in the hunt. He was her dear friend and had without a doubt saved her life on several occasions.
Talos eyed his master with baleful eyes, wanting to sleep before a warm fire rather than venture into the frigid wilds. Her eyes, however, were upon the landscape, on the horizon that lay beyond the veil of clouds. There was a gleam in her eye, a desire for adventure. Motionless she stood, as the cold enveloped her and the snow drifted inside. Finally, she moved, but only to remove the knife from her belt and replace it instead with a longsword of similar Elven style. Talos savored the feeling of the soft bear pelt beneath his paws, for he now knew he would not be feeling it again for some time.
Why? I stole from a church.
Yeah....
Oh, and I called a midget a fourth grader. Not to his face, of course, but it was said.
Yeah, I think my everlasting soul is screwed.
Yeah....
Oh, and I called a midget a fourth grader. Not to his face, of course, but it was said.
Yeah, I think my everlasting soul is screwed.
The Band All-Nighter was pretty fun, but most importantly, it was without pressure. I didn't have to worry about a guy or anything, I could just chill and do whatever. Of course, what do I do when I can do whatever? Play Halo 2 for a quarter of the night and watch Cars. I love that movie. Well, I really just love it for the canyons and whatnot (big surprise, eh?). Halo was pretty fun. I suck, of course, but it did feel good to run people over with a hovering car thingy. Also, being able to snipe Scott and Jeremy was a bit of a bonus.
My 360 ran Gears of War the whole night. I kinda wish I got in on the co-op play action, because I've never played it, but oh well. I played Guitar Hero once or twice, and I was able to beat Jeremy, which was cool. There were a couple things that ( was rather piqued about, but all-in-all, the best Band All-Nighter yet. I do wish there were more cups and drinks, though....
My 360 ran Gears of War the whole night. I kinda wish I got in on the co-op play action, because I've never played it, but oh well. I played Guitar Hero once or twice, and I was able to beat Jeremy, which was cool. There were a couple things that ( was rather piqued about, but all-in-all, the best Band All-Nighter yet. I do wish there were more cups and drinks, though....
Wow, the blogosphere's really quite dead, isn't it? No one's even commenting on anything. It's rather lonely. My breaking of the silence was going to be a post about the greatness of this country. It's about how we were founded on the belief that all men are created equal, and how we were meant as a breeding ground for new ideas of all sorts, and if we stay true to that prime directive, we cannot falter. But now I'm not really in the mood to keep writing it (it's unfinished, as many of my posts are), so there was my exceedingly brief overview.
I had a pretty good birthday, although, ironically enough, it was my quietest. You just usually don't think of sweet sixteens as being quiet. Hell, most people even forgot. I'd delve into that further but I'd hate to spoil a good mood. On a lighter note, I got that camera I was drooling over. It's got pretty much everything you could possibly want, except a good zoom. I can change the shutter speed, alter the exposure, basically do anything I'd ever want.
Summer's getting close! I'm so excited! We get out on the 14th, I get my braces tightened on the 15th, and then it's Hello Canyons! from then until July 3rd. Oh, and the band all-nighter is Friday. Wooty wootness. I'm fully prepared to duel anyone and everyone at Guitar Hero, unless of course that person is Sam, in which case, I will no doubt get my ass kicked.
I'm reading the Odyssey, which I think is incredibly fun. It's written in verse, which makes it even more enjoyable. The only downside is my project is to make a comic book, and I have to learn how to draw people in the next two weeks. It's not that hard, though. The human body's only the most complex figure to draw, particularly the hands. My god, it's hard to draw decent hands. Oh, and how do you pronounce Athene? Is it A-theen-i, A-theen-a, or just A-theen? Every time that name comes up (which is quite often), I ponder that question.
The clouds are yielding, the sun is ever present, and this is scarcely the time, but I feel it needs saying. Brighter days lie ahead. I can feel it, and it makes me anxious, to say the least. I want to sprint, I want to feel the wind of time caressing me as I race by. It's a rather odd thought to leave you with, considering the bulk of this post has been mostly fluff, but I just felt it could not go silenced.
I had a pretty good birthday, although, ironically enough, it was my quietest. You just usually don't think of sweet sixteens as being quiet. Hell, most people even forgot. I'd delve into that further but I'd hate to spoil a good mood. On a lighter note, I got that camera I was drooling over. It's got pretty much everything you could possibly want, except a good zoom. I can change the shutter speed, alter the exposure, basically do anything I'd ever want.
Summer's getting close! I'm so excited! We get out on the 14th, I get my braces tightened on the 15th, and then it's Hello Canyons! from then until July 3rd. Oh, and the band all-nighter is Friday. Wooty wootness. I'm fully prepared to duel anyone and everyone at Guitar Hero, unless of course that person is Sam, in which case, I will no doubt get my ass kicked.
I'm reading the Odyssey, which I think is incredibly fun. It's written in verse, which makes it even more enjoyable. The only downside is my project is to make a comic book, and I have to learn how to draw people in the next two weeks. It's not that hard, though. The human body's only the most complex figure to draw, particularly the hands. My god, it's hard to draw decent hands. Oh, and how do you pronounce Athene? Is it A-theen-i, A-theen-a, or just A-theen? Every time that name comes up (which is quite often), I ponder that question.
The clouds are yielding, the sun is ever present, and this is scarcely the time, but I feel it needs saying. Brighter days lie ahead. I can feel it, and it makes me anxious, to say the least. I want to sprint, I want to feel the wind of time caressing me as I race by. It's a rather odd thought to leave you with, considering the bulk of this post has been mostly fluff, but I just felt it could not go silenced.
On Saturday, my mom and I took a drive. I wanted to see brushland, ornate rock formations, and a golden landscape. I guess it was my early birthday present. We drove down to the mouth of the Deschutes River, walked around, and then out of curiousity, drove a little further. We passed through what seemed like endless wheat field and ended up at a town that can only barely be put on the map. All-in-all, a fantastic day.
Deschutes river, with a tree. I love the framing, but the focus isn't really right. It doesn't really look like eastern Oregon, though. Too much greenery. I guess we got lucky.
What can I say, I like flowers. And this one's pretty, purple and tiny. I'm fond of the framing, as well.
When one thinks of eastern Oregon, one probably wouldn't conjure up an image of a lush, green landscape, but hey, here it is. I love the Deschutes.
Not a particularly artful shot, but I just thought an old, dilapidated church looked cool. And by the way, if your travels ever send you near Wasco, OR, be sure to stop by. Honestly, it's the cutest little small town (and by small, I mean our sophomore class could probably double its population, if not triple it) I've ever seen. It's a quaint little oasis in the middle of rolling wheat fields.
Deschutes river, with a tree. I love the framing, but the focus isn't really right. It doesn't really look like eastern Oregon, though. Too much greenery. I guess we got lucky.
What can I say, I like flowers. And this one's pretty, purple and tiny. I'm fond of the framing, as well.
When one thinks of eastern Oregon, one probably wouldn't conjure up an image of a lush, green landscape, but hey, here it is. I love the Deschutes.
Not a particularly artful shot, but I just thought an old, dilapidated church looked cool. And by the way, if your travels ever send you near Wasco, OR, be sure to stop by. Honestly, it's the cutest little small town (and by small, I mean our sophomore class could probably double its population, if not triple it) I've ever seen. It's a quaint little oasis in the middle of rolling wheat fields.
