This is what I have done today: drunk tea, eaten chocolate, made and taken quizzes on facebook, browsed the internet, read some crummy bits of sources for my essay, looked desperately at my messy room, been to some gardens with my mum, stroked hunter my cat, talked to juno, talked to ana, browsed facebook, listened to enrique, checked protag, typed aimlessly, shuffled my papers around to feel like im doing something, eaten more chocolate, drunken more tea, checked protag again, transferred some money to my Venice fund, groaned at the prospect of doing work, checked twitter, groaned again, typed the title to my essay and tried several different formats on it (bold, italics, bold and italics, centered..) …and subsequently still have done no work...
*sigh* such are the symptoms of having procrastination disease.
I just hope you haven't caught it...(yet).

Oh and I almost forgot!! I got a story featured today on Protagonize! I was totally not expecting it...suddenly everyone was writing "congrats" on my profile, and that's only when I realised it!
I just stuffed up the story bout a month back, cos I thought I might as well; it was quite an old one I found on my hard drive floating around in the Stories folder and thought I'd put it up to see if it could go anywhere. I have a vague idea of where I want it to go - but not really; emphasis on the 'vague' lol. Well, anyway, you can go check it out if you so wish...but don't be expecting anything marvellous! lol VOILA!

Also, just thought I'd start randomly posting words or phrases that I particularly take a fancy to, that I might come across from day to day.
One I just found today, was in reference to our good old British Sunday roasts..and you usually ask for "all the trimmings". That's everything you could possibly want! Ha love it :D

I'm meant to be doing my essay right now, but procrastination seems to be taking over.
Meanwhile, I thought I'd just put this little summery thought up:

I feel the heat on my eyelids and lie there still,
Soaking up the glorious sunshine that beats down on my exposed skin.
I'm lounging out in the garden on warm soft blankets,
Listening to the sounds which surround me, filling my head with a surge of content.

The hum of planes overhead, which sweep a fluffy cream ribbon across the clear blue expanse above me;
The distant drone of dusty lawnmowers - I can picture the man: his bare back turning red, his booted feet pacing triumphantly across the grassy land as he pushes the machine past trimmed blades;
The comforting trickle of next door's water fountain making me want to dip my feet in, to feel its gasping coolness swell around my hot feet.

They sign the hopeful coming of days, bright 'n carefree 'n lazy;
Slapping on the cream, opening the creaky hamper;
Laughing, smiling and stretching out those white winter limbs into the wonderful light.

Ah I guess it's been a while again. Been mostly busy enjoying the rare newly arrived sunshine that we've been having this weekend. And also reading through the mammoth (yet amazing) long story on Protag called Tagged. If you haven't already read it, READ IT!! It's excellent; I couldn't put it down, so to speak! hehe. Just a totally exquisite blend of various authors' styles all mixing colourfully together to produce this rich exciting masterpiece! I have already mentioned them in my comment of praise, but just in case any of them are reading this, I take my hat off to you: Marc, Bill, Andrew, Archi and Kirsten. :D
So go check it out here, if you haven't! I know it's pretty long, but it's well worth it, trust me! ;)

So anyway, today's post...hmm...well I thought I could use this photo as an inspiration, that I took myself today. We went to these gardens at a local farm; really pretty and the sunshine made it all the more lovely :)



She lays curled up in the glorious heat,
Which lightly treads its glory feet;
Tip-toeing all blade and every leaf,
Into a bask of beauty sleep.

Archaic aqua faces smile
Outwardly observing the passing file;
Skirted legs and swinging leather bags,
Patting hands on golden backs.

Longing to be sunk in a sea of sand grains
But instead are stuck in grassy lanes,
The forlorn chairs cluster 'round the faces,
Staring back into those steely gazes.

An ear twitches, a tail ripples,
But her face still remains quite unsettled;
Eyes winked shut,
Paws tucked up,
Perfect spot, that,
For a perfect nap.

Hmm I might put that Easter story on protagonize so I, or others, can continue it on. Haven't got any more inspiration for it yet. Well...writing wise, not plot wise lol
Soooo yes...decided to be lazy and following Marc's lead with the idea of the National Geographic photo thingy as some inspiration...(actually stolen from Archi Teuthis I believe) ...it's all about sharing guys! :P

So here's the link to the photo and here we go!
(doh, I just realised the link only goes to a long slideshow of pics...so click this arrow twice and then its the fourth (black and white) photo along. Sorry bout that!)

Seated, alone
He pondered her words
The slight reluctance
In her tone,
Her nervous laugh,
Those flushing cheeks,
He watched her go, scurry on home.

What could he have done to change her mind,
It was a good idea! Well, at the time.
What did it mean, but he knew that
It was pretty obvious - she didn’t like him back.

Hey! Very near bedtime but thought I'd just stuff this up quickly. lol...So here's the next instalment from yesterday's story, a retelling of Jesus' arrest:

...Leaving the almost peculiar array of kneeling men under the trees, their heads bowed, I walked over to where Jesus was and stood a little way away from him. He was knelt down himself, facing a gnarled tree, its trunk twisted and intertwined into a cluster of roots. I could still hear the distant murmuring of the disciples, about a stone’s throw away. The hands of Jesus were clasped together tightly, almost as if someone was crushing them together, and pleading murmurs flowed fast from his lips. Moments passed and I began to hear fragments of his broken voice being carried along by the wind.
“Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me.”
He inhaled sharply, but remained still, his head bowed. I frowned in confusion. What could Jesus be talking of? What cup did he mean?

I was startled from my thoughts as his body heaved, suddenly noticing how long he’d been motionless in prayer.
“Nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done.” There was so much sorrow in his voice and as he moved, I caught a glimpse of his countenance in the harsh, deep red sunlight. It was pure agony to see it and I could feel a hot tear coursing down my cheek, mirroring his complexion.
Then a burst of blinding light suddenly veiled my eyes for a short second. When my vision slowly came to, I could see a magnificent shining figure standing close beside Jesus. A flawless radiant hand gradually reached out, touching Jesus gently on the shoulder. Instantly, Jesus’ whole body began to glow in short bursts until it seemed to illuminate all the trees around in a glorious stream; it could have been broad daylight. He lifted up his head, eyes tightly shut; his face was such a contrast from before: now full of peace yet bearing a flash of resolve.

It suddenly dawned on me that the figure by Jesus’ side was no less than an angel. But what need did he have of an angel? It appeared to have strengthened him and given him the peace that he needed; but to do what exactly? What could be so seriously wrong that even Jesus needed the help of a heavenly being from above? He himself was from above. He had been sent by his Father on high. That’s what he’d been saying all this time. What could he possibly be preparing for now? It didn’t cease to trouble me, gnawing at me whilst I continued to observe this strange scene.

Well it's good Friday today. :) Therefore I have something fairly appropriate for today's, or rather this evening's writing. Although it is an event which occured before the typical Good Friday, I thought it was a good a time as any to use this bit of a story I wrote some time ago. It is taken from the viewpoint of an invisible witness, outlining events as they unfold.
It is the evening of Jesus' arrest...

It was a mild evening. The gentle breeze rustled the delicate branches, leaves just hiding its laden boughs of small round black fruits. A calm stillness lined the crisp air not even broken by the growing sound of voices that weaved between the trees. The approach of a crowd soon became apparent and I saw their cloaked figures, advancing steadily. I soon recognised the somewhat unusual strained posture of Jesus at the front, his face pained and heavy in the fading twilight rays. His disciples followed, walking behind. I counted them; only eleven. Their faces were shrouded in shadow; it was hard for me to make out who wasn’t there.

Jesus stopped in mid step and the disciples abruptly did the same, silent. They could sense the unsaid tension as much as I could. After an anxious pause, Peter broke through the silence, “Should we stop here, Master?”

“Pray that ye enter not into temptation,” the master replied, gravely. The men cast discreet puzzled looks between them as Jesus turned and began to walk away into the dark midst of the garden. Peter opened his mouth to enquire after what Jesus had meant but another disciple reached out a hand before he could utter a word, gently touching Peter’s arm and shaking his head solemnly.

“Leave him be. He needs some time alone.”

Philip leant towards James and said in a low concerned tone, “What’s wrong with Jesus?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never ever seen him this quiet and pained before. But I’m sure all will reveal itself in time.” James knelt down and began to pray.

Philip’s voice rose in exasperation and he reached down, urgently shaking James' shoulder.
“But shouldn’t we help him? Surely we can do something!” James stopped praying and opened his eyes, sighing deeply.

“No, I don’t think there is anything we can do.” And he went back to how he was. Philip looked in the direction of Jesus, a worried expression etched on his weathered face. Yet he knew that James was right. He reluctantly knelt down and followed their example.
The other disciples couldn’t help questioning amongst themselves about what could possibly be troubling Jesus. But it was no use - none of them knew why this sudden seriousness and sorrow had gripped Jesus that night. The tangibly tense atmosphere still hung around the disciples, lingering like smoke.

(next instalment soon!)

p.s. I like the fact that I had to edit this considerably from what it was before - a sure sign that I'm improving :D

Argh its been a while. I don't know how you do it Marc, I really don't! (302 days in a row! *sob):P

Okaaay so...I'm writing this kindaaa horror story. Don't know if it's horror-y enough to be cast into that genre but oh well. I've never tried it before so it's really only an experiment to see if I can pull it off! hehe But I'm not posting it on protag yet...just because. Plus it's not done yet. But here's a small taster...

Air rushed into my gunk-filled lungs as I fell hard, collapsing onto the cold ground below. I immediately began coughing up everything in me, spewing out bitter tasting muck which made me gag over and over. With a partially cleared throat, fresh adrenaline and dissipated gravity, I stumbled up and desperately scrambled away from the growing puddle of gushing entrails and multi-coloured fluids.

Sorry it's not much...don't wanna give it all away! :P

p.s. This website is where I go if I really need a good laugh! :D

You've probably already seen this at some point...but just thought I'd put it on anyway in case you haven't. It's hilaaariously funny!! :D I've felt like this many a time in very serious situtations; it's painful!! :P



(p.s. It is from a belgian comedy show so don't worry. It's not real! lol)

Today's Writing

The daily writing isn't going as well as I'd hoped...but better some writing than nothing at all, right!? And if I force myself to do it, then I won't want to. So better just to stick to doing it when I feel like it. :D So anyway, things have been mostly uneventful...meant to be getting down to my assignments but that's really not happening (usual story). Eerm, yes, just been watching films instead. And I think I'm going to try and get an early night's sleep tonight. Since the mornings are nice and sunny now, it seem a pity and a waste to be spending them lounging under duvet covers. And the sunshine is so rare here, it seems madness to while it away! :)

So anyway, here's a random little poem I did on the topic of Wishes:

Warm me like a cup of tea,
Cuddle me like an old teddy,
Tell me that I'm just being silly,
Cos you think I'm real pretty.