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Thread: Broken up via Email: How cowardly!

Joined: 9/13/2004

Msg: 114 (view)

Broken up via Email: How cowardly! Posted: 1/10/2008 10:22:52 PM
im with u on that one. they don't even say bye or why and expect that to be ok. and they act like u never existed. i mean at least good bye might be something to let u know not to hope.

Joined: 9/13/2004

Msg: 55 (view)

Where the hell is my Mr. Right? Posted: 1/9/2008 10:03:46 PM
to issy. i have only gleaned the slightest bit from you and i can't see that anyone would add u as a favorite out of pity. you r a great person and i know even the blind could see that. nice guy r out there and they usually just end up as friends cuz they try and let the girl/woman do what she wants cuz they want her to be happy and not force anything on the girl. maybe, if u r looking for a nice guy, u should ask one of those guys who have u as a favorite, whom u might have the slightest bit of interest in what he thinks of you....or maybe talk to the friend who has always been there for u but never tried to make u go out with them. i ca almost guarantee u will find many who like u and many who may be good guys.

Joined: 9/13/2004

Msg: 186 (view)

are you over your ex? Posted: 12/31/2007 1:20:50 AM
i think, for the most part, everyone will miss their exs. even the ones that were horrible for us. their was always some quality inthem that we liked and desired, and that never truly changes, that is what we always remember even if we try to forget. we always miss our exs at some point because, in some ways, we always see them as part of who we r. either because they helped shape us for the better or worse, or we some of ourselves in them. we will always miss our exs and that is natural. we can only hope, that as much as we miss them, that we can get over them if need be. i know i am.

Joined: 9/13/2004

Msg: 4 (view)

Just asking for oppinions for this novel, i have writer's block. Posted: 12/27/2007 2:29:44 AM
To glitterati, i think i will respond to each piece of the idea: i am afraid to try and work with outlines again. i haven't used one in years. i found that when i did, my writing lost some of its life. it always worked for me for english assignments in school because, u r right, it kept me on track. though my over all writing lost some of its vibrancy. at least when it comes to outlining the story line. but i already have histories and psychological profiles for all my main characters and already developed an understanding about the social and societal structure of my world as well as a kind of mathematical structure for the fuctions of how magic is structured in my world that even includes an equation for the hinderences of magical flow in given environments based on elemental properties. i wanted to try and write the story in present tense to make the reader feel like what they r reading is happening at that moment but i am finding it quite difficult to maintain that tense. perhaps i should just revert to past tense to make it easier....what do u think?

Joined: 9/13/2004

Msg: 1 (view)

Just asking for oppinions for this novel, i have writer's block. Posted: 12/23/2007 2:48:41 AM
Chapter 2 Her skin is fair and her hair flowed behind her in an almost liquid fashion. Not a single strand flowed out of place. She wears form fitting leather armor stylized with red and black designs. The room is lit by only a single light shining down upon her and everything outside the light is almost pitch black. She looks around her, wary. She is wary but not a hint of fright is seen on her face. Though the shadows cast on her face hide fine details of her appearance, she is still equipped with an inviting visage. Suddenly liquid shadows leap from the black and surround her. The shadows look like outlines of her own form. With a swift motion of her hand and a slight illumination from her entire body, the air and light around her seems to bend and expand rapidly. It hits all of her shadows at once and they fall to the ground with a thud. Then, she emits small orbs of light from her wrists that spin and group together as if it were a bracelet. She draws into herself as she begins to chant in almost lyrical tones. Then she breathes out a sign of release and the orbs of light fly out towards her shadows as many are starting to recover from the first blow. Some are hit by the orbs and waiver away into nothing and some dodge. Two are able to waive their hands and bend the air and light themselves, but instead of it expanding rapidly it curves sending the orbs of light back at her. She slaps the ground and sends a shockwave out from her, halting the orbs of light mid return and dispersing them into sparkles that flutter and fade. Her shadows return to their assault and move in on her. The shadows begin to glow with black light that focuses on their hands and links to their centers as if it is a tether. She dodges a few of the assaults and begins to block another’s overhead attack only for her block to slide through her shadow’s arm and for the hand glowing with the black light to strike her between the shoulder and neck. Her scream of pain is mixed in with her angered frustration. She relinquishes to the pain for a moment and falls to the ground as the others converge on her. In a moment of quick action, she rolls through her shadows and hits them all with a blast of light and they waiver and fade away. “That was excellent princess. You are coming along quite nicely. Though you still have a long way to go to reach your full potential.” a man says as he emerges from the shadows much like the princess’s shadows before. His features’ details are, too, concealed by the shadows cast. “Thank you, General, for the kind words, but I know you, you see more than you will tell me.” “That is true my lady, but when one can see in front as well as behind another, it would make them simple prey to tell them their failing.” “General, you are always a wise counsel and a dear friend to me and my family, but I have two requests of you at this moment.” The General nods slightly indicating he will respectfully listen. “I wish you would just be straightforward with me. No more of these tactful-bordering-on-diplomatic riddles.” “It is done Princess.” “That is the other General, I wish, especially when you privately give me counsel, that you call me by my name.” “That will be a difficult habit to break but I will try,” a moment of pause before he finishes, “Arya.” “Thank you General.” “Well then, with this new found freedom you have afforded me, let me say this, you are relying too heavily on your tactics. You basically think that once you set your actions into motion that they should not waiver. You are letting yourself be stubborn. That it is a game with rigid sets of rules to which all must abide.” “Though I have given you the freedom to be informal, General, does not mean you can also be speaking with such condescension.” “Forgive me, but I am out of practice of speaking with tact when not using my diplomatic riddles. I simply worry that you will continue with certain courses of action that will cost you your life. In addition, though the sun would continue to rise and people would continue to live even in your death, I speak for myself and your parents when I say we would not wish to try.” “Then I would simply assume we need to get you well versed with speaking with enough tact for a friend. Otherwise you may end up with my hand’s form on your face among your other scars.” The moment drags on with both having a solemn attitude, then it suddenly changes and as quickly as the shadows emerged, they both smile and the General closes the few steps between them and gives Arya a brotherly embrace. They both laugh lightly, but with such simple joy that one watching would sigh in contentment and feel at peace if for but a moment. The General pulls from the embrace and studies Arya with a discerning eye to quickly judge her health and claps her shoulder and says, “Perhaps we should drink to your birthday, my niece, Arya,” making sure to over pronounce her name. “Be nice uncle. I rarely get to see you even when you live less than a league from the castle, don’t let this latest visit be remembered with your actions being compared to a drunkard.” “Well isn’t that harsh? I’d like to think I would at most be remembered as one simply enjoying the merriment of the spirits.” Again that simple laugh escapes their lips as they wander away from the training ground and a forest comes into view in the dead of night. It’s peaceful and serene and cool and alive all at once. These are grounds full of magic and creation. They exists to fulfill one’s needs and to show one their way, but for now they are simply trees and the sky is simply dark with pin pricks of light throughout. For these two, they want nothing more than to simply enjoy each other’s company, as old friends do, and perhaps break the silence with light talk. “How is the recruitment this year uncle?” “Overall it is slightly bellow fair even though there are quite a few promising ones and one that amazes me.” Immediately Arya stops mid step and stars at her uncle incredulously at his statement, “Amazes you?! You have never said that for as long as I can remember about anyone. Not even yourself do you think of as amazing even though you have grown to legendary status among our people and beyond. What has this child done to earn such praise?” “You could hold power over this kingdom and the army were anything to happen to your parents right now. Yet you are at least as old as he if not younger.” “If not younger? Don’t you know his age for certain? It’s not like you to be so sloppy with your information.” “Apparently he doesn’t know himself. He says he grew up out on the street without a home and doesn’t even know when he might have been born. From the looks of him, you might think he was a seasoned warrior, though his manners seem to match someone who has not been within society for long despite him having a clever wit.” “Forgive me for having my doubts uncle, but if he had no home nor anyone to take care of him,” her voice strains ever so slightly, giving away her frustration on this subject, “then how did he get proper instruction? How did he learn to be ‘amazing’?” “It is quite natural for you to have your doubts, I have them as well. Though I don’t believe I ever said he had no one to take care of him, in fact we don’t know much about him.” Arya gives the General a look of such disapproval that one would think she is the aunt and he the nephew, “You mean to tell me that you can not find anything on him?” “I do not know if we can not Arya, he is not a member of this kingdom, it will take time before our agents even reach the bordering kingdoms. Perhaps when we do, we will know everything about him down to every maid he has set eyes upon. Or perhaps we will discover that we know more about him here than anywhere else.” “I do believe, Uncle, that perhaps you are losing your faculties. Or getting senile before your time, you would never have let that pass before. You seem to be making many exceptions for this green recruit.” “He has matched me.” There is a long pause following this remark as Aria’s face is at first quizzical and slowly, the dawning of understanding comes across it and then flashes to disbelief and confusion at once. In an apprehensive manner she speaks, “Just to be certain, what has he matched?” With a slightly raised eyebrow and a small smirk he simply responds, “413.” “You jest. Even if you are not you can’t compare his wins to yours, he went up against green recruits while you went up against seasoned soldiers.” “Though I wish my men had some of that zeal you show me now, you give me far too much credit and this green recruit not enough. I may have gone up against some slightly more seasoned soldiers than he but not by much. Many of the recruits he faced were also mercenaries whom you could say were very well seasoned and if you wish to be thorough, my wins were over the course of a few months while his was over the course of two weeks. Every single match he had lasted only a span of a few breaths.” This seems to quell Arya and her queries but only with some strain on her part. They continue walking through the woods for a time on a well worn trail. The silence is broken again by Arya who smiles before she speaks, “One of the few things I allow myself in the way of simple joy is this day Uncle, I always have someone tell me the story of the first meeting. One of the few times in a year where I let worries seep away and simply enjoy a tale. Would you do me the honor of telling it to me this year?” “Arya, I would have thought you would have the story memorized. Don’t you tire of it by now?” “Please General, I do not have many things in life that make me content and this story is one of the few and even this I only allow once a year on the day of my birth, the day of the story.” “Very well, I do suppose since I do not have anything else I can give you, this will be the least I should do, I just hope I can tell it as well as your mother once did: So your story, our family’s story begins, 25 years to this day. The, then, princess Sopra was weighted heavily with child and confined to the castle for most of her life though she had extraordinary power and would most likely be able to take care of almost any situation that arose. She also knew that her child, regardless of boy or girl, would most likely spend most of their lifetime bound by the title and crown. At least that would be the case if you were blessed with magic (though it is sometimes a curse or burden), but she could feel your power long before you ever felt light or the wind on your face. She decided that she should at least feel them herself so that she may at least tell you about them, that she may bring a semblance of peace to her life and to yours. She left the palace under the cover of night and lounged in the meadows looking at the night sky and began a leisurely stroll to the palace. It began to rain and she shuddered as the cold drops fell onto her head, but it was not a shudder. It was you, my dear Arya, that caused her to quake because you, like your mother, had decided you wanted a bit of freedom from your confinement. Unfortunately you had chose the wrong time and she had chosen the worst street to take her leisurely stroll down. A group, that I was a part of, was looking for some money and food and we found your mother in elegant raiment on the ground and crying in pain. Part of me, I’m ashamed to say, thought she was an easy prey for us, but also I was a child still and I could not bring myself to harm her. My friends had other ideas. They had been on the street much longer than I had and were hardened to the plight of a fallen woman. They began to move in, and perhaps it was my natural need to punish myself but I stood in their way. They began to hit me and drive me to the ground once they knew I would not give in, I bled, but it was enough time for your mother to gain her composure. She didn’t even leave the ground but breathed in. She called upon such force that it held the rain suspended mid-air and had us all halt in surprise, fear, and awe. I didn’t have the sense at that moment to be afraid, it might have been the many blows I had received or that it was my first view of any type of magic, but I was entwined with the moment in a sort of, love you might say, because it seemed natural and peaceful to me. I knew then that nothing could be more beautiful than magic. As I slowly slipped away into a welcoming darkness, my last sights were of the bits of rain hanging around us moving towards those still standing as if they were birds in flight desperately seeking shelter from a predatory hawk. I awoke to the sun on me and your mother and father and you, wrapped in a blanket, by my bed side. It seems your mother’s magic was like a beacon for the sentries of the city as yours is now to them, they found her grasping at the air, that was free of rain only around her, out of relief and a weakened state, and I had somehow been pulled to her legs and had you in my arms. At least that is what I have been told. Your parents fussed over me and thanked me many times for helping even though I was certain your mother had done most of the saving, but it was odd that I was never let to leave the quarters they had given. I almost felt like a specimen for a spell, being judged and reviewed by experts for quality. I would have been certain of it except that your parents, when not having you fawned over by dignitaries or readers of the stones, were bringing you to me and having me watch over you while I was healing. They did all that for me and never once asked me for my name or loyalties or of my beliefs in creation. They asked about my parents and what they did. Finally they asked me where my parents were and I told them that they were at their eternal rests. They looked at me with solemn smiles that did nothing to belie the pity I saw in their eyes and the hatred I felt towards myself as tears welled up in my eyes. I turned away pretending to play with you by making funny faces, in the hopes they would not see my eyes glisten and hear the tremble in my voice. Then your mother sat at the edge of my bed and began to close her arms around me, and in one last attempt to hide my tears I pretended to have a sneezing fit in the hopes I could hide my face but that didn’t stop her. A princess, who was to be queen one day, disregarded me sneezing on her and her clothes and embraced me, tears and all. It may seem a ridiculous thing to focus on but it meant the world to me. It is also the last day I remember crying or having the need to do so. From that day on I was a member of the family. I would never inherit the throne but I received the love and care of a family. A year of this went by and we had many joys and we all watched as you took your first steps and your first words. I was even the victim of your first act of magic. For a day, I had the wings of a bird and the tail of a horse. At the end of the year I was told about the many people who helped heal me and the fact that some were readers of the stone testing me for magic and found none but a destined fate. I was destined to be a protector and a mentor. I had choices to make. Our family offered to take care of whatever choice I made, and I decided to be trained as a warrior, as a protector. I was sent to masters all around the realm and some were brought to me. I was taught by the best and went through training that left scars many of which I am still haunted by in my sleep. After all of it, I came and devoted myself to you, your mother, and your father. I pledged fealty to us, not the kingdom, but us. I also vowed to teach you my skills because if you learn, you will never find yourself vulnerable on the street and having to rely on a street urchin like me. A look of nostalgia is placed upon the General’s face as he finishes his story and draws his sword, hands it to Arya. The General, without the slightest hint of humor, says, “We should have a fair session for your birthday. You are not allowed to use magic and I am not allowed to use anything aside from my bare hands and anything I may be able to use from the surroundings. Let our training begin again.” The two are moving lithely and gracefully circling each other in blurs of shadow and shape. The wind stills but for around their forms. There is no magic being used but one looking at it can only assume that nothing else could explain what was before their eyes. Try as you might, you will never see clearly what is happening but it doesn’t matter, the outcome is soon and decisive. Arya’s blade slices through the air and her uncle catches it between his palms simultaneously kicking Arya in her side hard. The thud of his boot drives the air from her lungs and immediately makes her collapse feeling weakened and small. The impact still sending shock waves through her center. It always boggles her mind that he can with seemingly no effort, though the few sparse beads of sweat on his brow still proves he had to try, take her down with a single strike. She knows better than to let the pain cloud her mind, she knows it is not yet over. She clears the cloud in her mind just with enough time to comprehend a blade arcing towards her face. Her eyes widen and she immediately calls forth the power within. The air congeals in front of her face and wraps itself around the blade bending the little light around it extending along the arm holding the blade all the way to the torso. It happens all within half the blink of an eye. All with as little time to pass as the moment for your heart to stop in worry. The air begins to move again and the arm is released as the combatants stand and gain control of their senses and composure. “It’s the first time you stopped a fatal blow Arya. I’d say you truly are surpassing your mother.” The compliment is lost on Arya for she is rubbing her side knowing that she can do better and she must. It is all her ego can do to simply let her reply “Thank you” with about as much sincerity and enthusiasm as a sick child. “Now, Arya, I know I didn’t hurt you that badly. If I tell you once, I must tell you many more times than my life will allow; you needn’t go easy on me to preserve my ego.” At the absurdity of Arya ever letting herself risk taking it easy on the General, she laughs. A short and brief laugh. Though as short and brief as it was, it was powerful. It seemed to make every dew drop forming on the leaves and the ground amplify the moonlight five-fold. Again the air, in that moment, stands still. It’s as if the winds of destiny knows that these two are linked to many others as those who are destined to destroy or save the world. ............................................................... any advice for writer's block or oppinions on y writing r welcome.

Joined: 9/13/2004

Msg: 152 (view)

Ever have a crush on a cartoon? Posted: 12/18/2007 12:39:29 AM
really issy? Tuxedo Mask? that is so wierd cuz i wanted to be him....i had a crush on sailor moon :P. lol. its a bit wierd but i liked it :).

Joined: 9/13/2004

Msg: 31 (view)

Re: Music and Broken Hearts Posted: 12/12/2007 9:41:47 PM
i dunno about happy songs per se but i have some that were kinda inspirational to me for onereason or another, and these r my top 3: Fuer elise by beethoven the rocky theme song Eye of the tiger (this one makes me feel strong) Hit me with your best shot by pat benatar. My sister used to listen to a bunch of songs with friends who were heart broken growing up but the one i heard a lot was teh one that goes do you like pina coladas and getting caught in the rain.

Joined: 9/13/2004

Msg: 20 (view)

I Feel Half Alive But I Feel Mostly Dead Posted: 12/8/2007 3:27:33 PM
There was one relationship that even to this day, i have not let go. the funny thing is that i know what i always needed to do to get over it i just never could do it because i could never find the time; i had too many ppl counting on me in one way or another. Don't get me wrong, i have laughed since then and been in other relationships. its just nothing made me feel as happy in the same way as that one girl. But i have been happy. it has been 3 almost 4 yrs since that one girl and i hope to find another as good for me or better than she was one day, but it is about being happy in the mean time. So for now, do what u need to do, what u feel. get better then cry again and get better and cry as many times as it comes to u, as long as u need to do it.....but keep i mind that u will laugh, u will smile, u will be happy as long as u let it happen. If u do, what guy wouldn't see that in u and try to make u happy? Though u don't need it, lots of luck Issy

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