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Everything posted by Slowswift
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If you haven't seen it yet, I posted to my writng thread last night! (Well, this morning. Technically.)
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I'm not normally the singing type, but our ward choir is awesome, and today was even more amazing than usual: we sang one of my favorite songs, the Pilgrim Song. It's had a special place in my heart ever since I heard it on Music and the Spoken Word over a decade ago, since my school's chamber choir sang it at graduation, and even more so now that I had the privilege to sing it myself.
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My sister graduated today! She's the best and I love her.
(But don't tell her I said that.)
- Apparently I'm allergic to the entire month of May. This is the third year running that, at this specific time of the month, I've got hayfever so bad it might as well be a cold. It especially sucks because I absolutely adore spring otherwise.
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My sister graduated today! She's the best and I love her.
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Hey, @Thaidakar the Ghostblood. When I first heard this song, it reminded me of how uplifting and supportive you are to everyone here. So, in light of your imminent departure, this one's for you.
I suppose it was only a matter of time before I started listening to Keane. I'd enjoyed a couple of their songs before, but last week I finally figured I ought to listen to the rest of the album. I love how the primary instrument in their band is keyboard, not guitar--it gives them a unique, beautiful sound. (Maybe this song isn't the best demonstration of that, but it's still true.)
The pen is an Opus 88 Omar; the ink is Colorverse Rainy Day.
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Forgot my Shardiversary again lol. Though, since last year was the Big 10, I guess I just don't feel the same urgency anymore. Maybe I'll make a big stink about 15, but until then I'll just say thanks for having me around, y'all.
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A poem shared with me the other day: maybe you'd like it too?
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All right, I'ma crowdsource some worldbuilding 'cause it's giving me too much of a headache.
Consider, if you will: In front of you is a book. This book is magical. Oh, on the outside, it's nothing special: a nondescript leatherbound volume, a little worn but in good condition. Maybe it's a famous wizard's journal, maybe it's a grimoire, maybe it's just an outdated almanac. But something about this book has the potential to end the world if it fell into the wrong hands. What is that something?
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Enough about turning off your internal editor while writing--how do you turn off your internal cringe? I swear I can't write anything remotely poetic or romantic without creating a singularity in my bedroom.
