Chaos in the Soul

Since I completely forgot I had this journal, I think it's safe to say that if I have anything important to say about my characters (Dev, Dean, and now Leon who was created for hllywd_nights) I'll simply say it in their own journals. I'm not much of a blogger. I mainly like RPing.

I knew I wouldn't have much to put in this thing. But I am thinking of picking up a new character. So far Dev seems to be coming along nicely. He's not the most social thing but maybe if I prod him a bit more. And at least he's replying to prompts when they're offered.

And it's another Sunday already. Lovely.

Summers are madness for me - good madness, but still... Anyway, I'm going to be more away than here, though I will try to at least get computer access somewhere enough to keep up with prompts and tags. My tagging will be slow, but should return to normal in a few months. I've been preparing for a trip, then when I get back I have people visiting, then another trip. It's all family so not as exciting as I'd like, but it's always nice to get away.

I'll post this in Dev's journal so his RP partners are aware.

"I think I left the coffee pot on."

"No, you didn't. I doublechecked."

"Are you sure? I thought you only doublechecked that the back door was locked."

"No, I checked the coffee pot. It's fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

For this photo.

The last thing he could remember about his mother was how sad she'd looked that day. He was set to go visit his grandmother in the neighboring town. It was his first trip alone, the first time for him to be a big boy. He hadn't been scared or sad to leave his mother, but she hadn't looked right to him as the bus pulled away. She kept her head down and hadn't seen him waving to her as she grew smaller and smaller and he finally lost sight of her.

After the incident that took his mother's life, his grandmother explained to him that it wasn't his fault. His mother had been unhappy for a long time and had decided that she couldn't live with such heaviness in her heart. She had sent her son to be with his grandmother because she wanted to be sure that he would be all right. He may have been safe, but he wasn't all right. Once he was old enough to understand exactly what his mother had done, he would never be all right.

It was the melody that got stuck in my head for days at a time. It was the tune I ccouldn't stop humming or whistling until my friends threatened me with physical harm. It comforted and amused, and I adored it.

It was my song.

It was playing that night when you looked at me and told me I had the most beautiful eyes you'd ever seen. The soundtrack for our first dance. Our first kiss. It evoked warm feeings and marked special occasions for us.

It was our song.

You turned out to be the biggest mistake of my life. Temporary, unfeeling, utterly without charm or depth. I let you have everything because you wanted it. I walked away with nothing. But you don't get this. I'm taking it back.

This is my song.

On the Discovery Channel website: "Half of Universe's Missing Matter Found"

I wonder if my Guess sunglasses are there.

A pragmatist's guide to etiquette:

It is easiest for one to dispose of unwelcome guests when one is standing by an open window. However, be warned that this practice is frowned upon in most polite circles.

I put up Dev's bio, using profile code provided by reversescollide. It's fairly sparse, but at least it's started. There were some fields I left blank because I haven't yet discovered the answers to them. He'll tell me.

Next, he has to get some poetry written, though that won't be as easy to complete as that bio.

On a personal note, I'm moving some things so I have to start packing them. Ugh. But at least once it's done, it's done! That will warrant a Hurray!

A fresh start, unlimited potential, the chance for one's hidden genius to be put on display for the world - or at least invited friends - to see!

Yes, you will happily wander down to store after store, spending the day in all of your shopping glory. The return home is triumphant, your arms heavy with those brilliant things for painting and creating, your head filled with themes and scenes, fantastical subjects that could only be borne of your magical mind.

As it is with so many things, however, your darling husband does not share your vision, the simple truth being he was not exactly listening when you told him of your grand plans.

"Hello, dear," you hear as you open the door to gaze upon what once was your glorious blank canvas. "How do you like the new wallpaper?"

I had Dev doing prompts from all_unwritten, but I think I'll do it myself. It really is a nice place to find writing prompts merely for the sake of unblocking a writer, if only for a little while.

All right. The prompt for today is:

True love is night jasmine...
~Jim Butcher

--

Love, in its truest form, is that delicate thing which does not flaunt itself in the harsh light of day. It is patient, it is fragile, and it blooms in those soft, gentle moments whispered in the dark.

I need to work on a detailed bio for Dev. I also have to start making him write some poetry. I know I want him to have that as a major interest - it's probably the only thing he's insecure about but feels compelled to do. Unfortunately, my days of writing poetry ended in college, so I'm more than a bit rusty. That's the only thing that hurts about having a muse in your head who's nothing like you. Every now and then you have to really challenge yourself to be true to him.

I've decided to have an official mun journal.  I'll write updates about my muse here, not that I think there'll be all that much to say about him.  I might also make the occasional post about something that interests me.