|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
BD1: Diary Day IThis time round the challenge has posed a few difficulties for me. Firstly I sprained my wrist whilst doing the garden work, and then further damaged it at work. This has made typing and using the mouse sheer agony, and at times, darn right impossible. Nonetheless I promised Hypermagical I would participate so I was determined not to back out just because of a that…I still have one fully operational hand right. Then once I found myself starting I soon noticed I actually had an attentive audience awaiting for my daily submissions and so my promise to Hypermagical quickly found itself extended to my fellow participants who I have drawn on for that extra boost of ambition to see it through to the very end.
The second difficulty came in the final week (flashbacks) as having wrote submissions before of each of the week’s topics I was in rather a pickle as to where to go with the topics without being repetitive…I’m sure others shared this dilemma. Having this problem
BD2: Diary Day IIThis time round I have really felt a sense of community between us fellow Souljournalists throughout this challenge. The conversations with Bloodawni, VickyandRaq , Quina-Chan and Eremetik have allowed me to delve into the lives of others whilst simultaneously revealing my deeper layers without fear of judgement, helping us forge out new friendships. Particularly with Eremetik who I think for my most part we are on a similar wavelength.
Having said that it seems that our community has become a small, tight-knit one as there was a very limited number of participants this time round. However as the old mantra goes ‘Quality over quantity’ and I’m sure we can all agree that the quality of the content has been an absolute marvel. Truly top rate entries time and time again by everyone who has taken part. Add to that the commitment and drive that has gone into this challenge by the participants to make it work is testament to how hard Hypermagical has worked to put it all to
W4: D7: Pens/SwordsThe final day (well proper day) of the challenge, and for me the most challenging as having already written about pens before I am now stumped about what to write this time round *screams madly at screen*.
As a poet a pen is to me what a wand is to a wizard or a witch. It the tool through I channel my energies, cast my spells, and bewitch my victims. My emotions, thoughts and imaginations are compressed by the pen into a thick, jet coloured ooze which flows silkily across the snowy pages as they sit on my desk in suspended animation, hearts frozen, life not yet established.
It is the pen which activates the spark of life and sets it ablaze across the sheets awakening their souls, bringing them into a quasi-existence where they breathe my very spirit, and sing my words.
Unlike their partner in quote the sword. Swords do not take life but destroy it, a simple, but swift movement can tear apart an ink sodden page, extinguishing the fragile slice of life it was given by that murky, black b
W4: D6: HomeIn the twenty-four years of my life I have had seven homes. The first was a one-room apartment where I spend the first couple of years of my life along with my mother and father. Then Sarah, my eldest sister, came along so we moved into a three bedroom house in the middle of a cul-de-sac just off a main road which had a park on the other side, at the time this open green space seemed to be a completely different world with its trees, small stone bridges and babbling brook.
Then Lisa was born two years later so we up-sticks again to another three bedroom house on a different council estate. I refer to this period as ‘the dark ages’ which lasted for the next eleven years seeing out my childhood. During these years a third sister, Tracy was born and my parents divorced leaving me to head up the household and take care of my father whose long-term physical disability was by now beginning to take over. On top of the constant bullying that occurred, which only ever got worse as t
W4: D5: SelfHaving this topic pop up once more has forced me to go back to read back over what I said last time, and I have to say a few changes have occurred.
Alas I am still a meagre five foot so my vengeance on the cookie jar is yet to take place, but as I am now on a low-fat diet to reduce my cholesterol not being able to reach said prison of biscuits it no longer bothers me that they remain out of reach. Furthermore I no longer don the black rimmed spectacles. Instead I now wear a rimless pair of designer Ben Sherman frames.
According to one online quiz which determines what Final Fantasy job is best suited to you based on personality and outlook on life I am a black mage, this delights me as many a morning I have spent riding the bus to work thinking to myself how wonderful it would be to just sit and watch the world burn…I’m much more cheerful once I get to work and have my first cup of tea of the day…honestly I am.
I have since then found myself to be an uncle to Harrison
W4: D4: Free DaySeeing as this week’s theme is flashbacks I think my free day should be used to talk about just that…flashbacks.
I actually suffer from flashbacks, mostly in the form of night terrors. Not so often now but growing up it was a regular occasion (many years of therapy and counselling has helped me manage this issue).
I would shout and scream in my sleep, kicking out and violently raging. On one occasion I managed to hurl something across my bedroom something I have no memory of doing. I still do talk, shout and scream every now and again but fortunately the raging has stopped.
Connected to my problem with flashbacks is an aversion to loud noises which act as a trigger for the flashbacks which in turn elevates my anxiety levels and pulls me into a panic attack. Which on one occasion meant I had to be carried home by one of my best mates from the university campus ruining what was, until then, a perfectly good evening.
I’m guessing by now some of you may be wondering what
FallowWhen I was a little girl, we lived in a house with a nectarine tree. My father tended to it faithfully, watering it and pruning away the dead wood and the branches that would grow too heavy with time, sealing the trimmed edges with care. Each spring, it bore a can-can line of frilly, fragrant petticoat blossoms, cast away wantonly beneath the carnal attentions of buzzing cyprian bees. Each summer, it groaned beneath the weight of fruit, ripening in heavy round golden bellies, basking in the honeyed California sunlight, serene and assured in its fecundity. For a glorious few weeks, we would eat nectarines all day long, in as many creative applications as we could think of, canning the excess for a taste of summer in the fallow months to come.
One spring, the tree dropped every one of its leaves, instead flowering in a veritable nova of blooms… somehow, it sensed the end of its long, slow life, and in one last tremendous effort, it sank all of its energies into posterity, producing
She used to owe God gratitude for her every achievement, by the colour of her life did she pray for jumping stars to chase the sky. Her destiny was to be Mulan, a disciple, a paladin who wielded life; a hero - pillar of humanity. Yet she wondered if stained glass was as messy as her pastel drawings, layers of struggles under layers of hues, did visitors look at those crooked contours and praise it as a work of genius?
She always preferred to use pen rather than pencil, albeit she loathed to admit her flaws, she thought that it would make her seem more grown up. Still, did those erratic scrawls substitute inked apologies? Has she been waiting for adulthood, where her pulse is flat like her waiting, waiting for second chances?
She loved how there were infinite respawns and infinite time she planned to spend on video games. Monsters were engineered to be defeated and players were drones on suicide missions, dropping full stops on the confusion which she
TopangaMy Favorite Rabbit Story
I tell this story often to speak to the intelligence of rabbits from my own personal experience. This involves my first rabbit, a big orange doe named Topanga. It was the late nineties, so Boy Meets World was on the air, which was where we got the name. We had made it a family tradition to name our pets alphabetically after I got my first two mice, Albina and Beatrice. After them, it was the parakeets Cecelia and David, then another mouse, Eric. After Albina and Beatrice passed, we bought two more, Falene and Ginger who I bred to Eric, resulting in a number of babies, whose names I can’t even recall, up to the letter S. So, when we got our rabbit, we were at T and I went with Topanga.
My stepdad was the one who spotted her. He was looking out the window and said there was an orange rabbit in the yard, which we didn’t quite believe until we looked for ourselves. There she was, just about as orange as a carrot. She was quite ta
The EncounterI saw him at the grocery store on a Thursday. His hair was cut shorter then before and he looked as pale as the moon. He was wearing that gawd awful jacket with the brown stripes around his thin frame. It had been 6 months. Maybe more. To be honest it felt like a million years was passing between the minutes.
Some would probably accuse my actions of staring at this man for so long rude. And it was, so please don't argue with me. Now...you don't know this man. But I do. Or....I did. He was someone very special to me, but I soon realized that the entire relationship was nothing but fake smiles and pretend make up on his end. Which hurt. Although I did fight through it and I still tried to be helpful, even though I knew it was in vain and he didn't give two fucks about me. I wanted more then anything to be close to him. Even if he pushed me away.
He had attempted suicide on countless days the year I met him. He would talk to me every night, and we would stay up until dawn talking. For so
Everyone was a bully somehowWe've probably all bullied someone at some point, no matter how much we deny it. Whether directly through angry, thoughtless comments, or indirectly by standing aside and saying nothing, we've all been a part of this horrible practice. We didn't mean for it to hurt, but it did.
Sure, everyone hates that annoying kid who constantly yells "I'm single!" whenever someone's talking about relationship problems, but that doesn't mean you have to pick on him.
Sure, everyone judges that girl for her lengthy dating history and skimpy clothing, but that doesn't mean you should call her a slut.
Sure, that somehow-popular guy bullies everyone, but that doesn't mean you have to be mean to him in return.
Sure, that girl isn't as athletic as the rest of the team, but that doesn't mean you should refuse to acknowledge her very existence for years on end.
So what do you do?
Be that one person who apologizes for bullying the poor kid. Tell people that enough is enough. Listen to him (although maybe you'r
Funny Antics: Children: Part 1I'm in the process of changing to a new job, but, like with most jobs, you do collect those few little laughs. And with children these moments are always dancing around waiting to be caught and savoured. So, whilst this is not a formal piece of writing, there are a few little examples of what I've collected over some time.
1. Child: When I first started I was worried you would be the mean one.
Me: Me?! What made you think that?
Child: Because you were the room leader, and you never did your hair.. it was always in ponytails.
Me: And now?
Child: Well you're my favourite, I soon got to know you
(Really I should have stopped here)
Me: But.. but.. I STILL wear the pony tails.
Child: Oh yeah, I know, don't get me wrong, your hair still like, seriously needs a doctor or something! You honestly can't spend your life just in pony tails! Who even still wears them these days? It's sooooo uncool.
Well. That Tells Me. AND WHAT'S WRONG WITH PONYTAILS!?!?!? D: It was like getting a lecture off my mu
The CallThis is a written record of what happened on October 16th, 2013. My mother received a Kidney-Pancreas Transplant that day and this story is written from my point of view.
It all began around 5:55 A.M., my mother received what the family referred to as "The Call." I don't know what woke me up , but I remember my mom saying "No I haven't eaten anything... yes, I'll be there. Ok... goodbye."
I fell back asleep as my mom went into my little brother's room and told him what was going on. I heard her say that it was probably going to be a false alarm (meaning that she had been called to the hospital, but laboratory results said that something was wrong with either her or the organs) and that she would be home by noon. She came into my room and repeated what she said.
The day was also the day that my school took a major test (I believe it was the ACT. I am not sure). So you can imagine that my nerves were pretty thin by the time I was halfway through the dar
Doubt ch 1She looked at me with a sly smile, as if trying to put the mischief she had in mind into my own head. But was it actually mischief? I've seen that smile before when she wanted to do something against the rules. I looked back at her, not saying a word until the stare dragged out and I didn't know what she wanted from me.
"What?" I asked.
"I have something for you." She replied. "Well, for us." She dug into her bag pulling out a note pad while looking over her shoulder. It was one of those standard notebooks you use for school, with a purple front and a coil along the side to turn the pages easily. She held it out to me, and on the front it had our names side by side.
"Its so we can write letters to each other and look back on what we wrote. I wrote you the first letter." She pushed the notebook into my hands. As I began to open it she placed her hand on top of it, forcing it shut.
"Don't read it while I'm here. Read it later so the teachers don't catch on were passing notes."
Kill the MessengerEveryone sees violence in me as a strange thing. Mother thinks I need to see a psychiatrist. Most likely the cause of this anger also thinks I need to see one but I think the only thing I need to see right now is either a) a dead twin or b) myself in a far away town away from family. Maybe that's extreme (does it sound extreme to you?) but I can't see how a psychiatrist can help with anything and really those are the only options that work.
Imagine this: you've lived say seventeen years plus a few weeks, but I'm rounding so seventeen years it is, and one of the main things you can remember is a twin brother that just can't seem to leave you alone. Frankly you just can't really get a break from him since you live with him. You're sick and tired of his shit and honestly you hate the asshole. No one else seems to notice what a dick he is except for one friend (maybe two but you're not sure) but even she doesn't have the whole picture. It's hard to explain when he keeps putting up a front
W3: D2: CampingI have only ever been camping once and that was on a long weekend to Hemsby (near Great Yarmouth). Me and a mate went as a treat to celebrate my GCSE results (mostly A grades except for geography and IT which were B grades). Even though it was mid-July it was cold and rained most of the time…typical British weather, as the old joke goes “How do you know when it is summer in Britain? The rain gets warmer.”
I remember one funny incident happening during the first evening as we were pitching up the tent. We had managed to secure the first couple of pegs into the ground and were working on the third when suddenly the first peg launched itself from the ground, shot up in the air then plummeted back to Earth smacking itself on the car bonnet and bouncing off. We both stood there in a state of surprised paralysis momentarily before erupting into a fit of uncontrollable laughter as the bizarre event took place.
All in all in was a good few days and as soon as I got back home
Keep in Touch!
Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More