blog inspiration

In order to give myself a little kick in the butt and get this blog going, I have turned to the experts for some writing inspiration.

1. "Julie and Julia"

This quirky and sweet non-fiction film trails the experience of Julia Child, infamous chef and cookbook author, and Julie Powell's attempt to follow in her footsteps through a cooking blog. I fell head over heels for this movie because it has Meryl Streep AND Amy Adams. What is there not to like? Of course, hilarious goof-ups and touching revelations ensue. It is Julie's dedication, however, that keeps me coming back to this movie again and again. She feels a responsibility to herself and to her readers to complete the task that she has set in front of herself.

As for me, I know that I don't have a following, but maybe the motivation to stay true to my own promises will be enough.

2. Lookbook

This fashion blog uses photography, not words, to tell the stories of followers around the world. Each look has a strongly introverted, but stubbornly unique point of view that I can't resist. Plus, it helps my own fashion crises! Now that I have a camera of my own, I'd love to showcase some of my "creative" wardrobe... maybe on my sister?

3. StumbleUpon

If I am ever having writer's block, which I usually am, this website is great for finding the most random photography, jokes, short stories, articles, whatever, to get my mind off my piece. Some of the stuff I find is so great I have a file on my desktop filled with pictures and articles that I couldn't let go of. So, fully aware that Stumble has single-handedly enabled my procrastination habits, I am giving this link to you, hoping that it will expand your mind, at least a little bit.

Well, that's all for now, hopefully you will be seeing more of me within the next few weeks, because classes start up again the 17th of January, and I don't know how much time I'm going to have then. But who knows, perhaps I will create a firm enough habit of it.

For starters, it is obvious that none of my writings will have nary a sheen of worthiness compared to the greatest writers of all times, like the fellows, and females, I mentioned below. I will not set myself up for such a great disappointment. I can aptly well observe and comment and perhaps give new light to their wisdom and insights, but none are original to myself. This is another reason why I believe I am doomed to be an editor, but never an author. I can recognize glory, taste it, smell it, pursue it, but never produce it from my own fingertips. Ironically, I shall forever be a slave to literature, never its conqueror, but isn't that what true love is?

After a few days preoccupied with photography, thanks to my mother for getting me the glorious Canon Rebel for Christmas, I am inevitably turned back to writing for this unpatronized blog of mine. Despite the fact that my posts haven't been exactly personal, I feel like my readers, potential ones, I guess, have gotten to know me through my ranting, uninhibited prose. I have two and a half weeks before I am sticking my nose back into the grindstone of classes and schedules and papers and exams, but that is two and a half weeks away, and a young girl like myself can't be so preoccupied with such a distant future, now can she. What am I going to do with this time? Spend it carelessly on listless afternoons spent slouched in front of a Law and Order marathon? Perish the thought. Instead, I will sigh and sweat over some of the long overdue projects that have been mulling my head for some time now. Inspiration has almost been overwhelming, and I have now past the point where further input is required. No, now is the time to close the doors, draw the shades, and dwell in darkness until my work is complete. Maybe from time to time my mobile will illuminate and vibrate on my desk, bearing tidings from ones so far but oh-so-loved, my only sustenance in this trial. But as for the world outside my own expansive mind, it does not exist. Austen, Steinbeck, and Bronte will be my only tea companions; Hemmingway, Woolfe, and Wilde shall be the sole company in my weary strolls. Massachusetts will vanish and in it's place Middle Earth and Hogwarts shall thrive; physical laws will fall victim to fantasy's supernatural sword and clever imagination shall take the throne. Snow will crystallize in springtime and mermen will charge the mountains. As lovers cross the stars so shall children surpass their ancestors. Ah, the animal that is procrastination has infested my house again, this house that only knows how to deal with words, and words of all kinds, but of little philosophy. Perhaps I should develop the wisdom before I promise it with these words. But where would the fun in that be?

just what i discovered today stumbling... enjoy :)

so incredibly adorable

what is the point of understanding,

without an outlet to express it?

let our love be like the greats,

echoing passages of pages past,

worshipping history with every kiss

and praising the masterpieces with every touch.

let the gaze between you and i

electrify the world like grand architects did

and build a majestic monument to them,

your hand guiding mine, and i yours.

let each breath exchanged hold the grace

of each arching note played in ancient halls,

tempted out by brilliant fingers,

resounding in awestruck hearts.

let the space between us vanish;

create an indecipherable line,

curving and slanting as smooth as ink,

writing a romance with no words.

let each kiss leave blushes of pink,

like roses splashed across a canvas,

blooming eternally in velvet perfection

with intoxicating vitality and warmth.

let our love never die,

as the works of geniuses survive.

let it be a testament to what man can do

with just his head, hands, and his heart.

zaboomafoo

It's Zaboomafoo!

words of the day

mocha

velvet

pressure

coil

withdrawn

daffodil

mystic

starlight

"Psychic Chasms" by Adam Gallagher on LOOKBOOK.nu

"Psychic Chasms" by Adam Gallagher on LOOKBOOK.nu: "BLOG:http://whatdreamz.blogspot.com/
TWITTER:http://twitter.com/AdamAppleSeed


good morning everyone:) how are you guys this week? heres my newest post including the world famous eyeglasses company DITA who chose to have me represent them with these chic pair of shades. i love them. i get compliments all the time. theyre made SO well and i know they will last a long time. you really should check the site out. ALSO, i am featuring my newest gift courtesy of my aunt, a VERSACE scarf, which is gorgeous. so i paried it with my leather jacket for some edge. hope you like. many posts to come ;]

xx adam"

Katy Perry - Firework

words of the day

simplicity

sacrifice

trance

envious

fortune

tug

balancing

duel

gravitation

blush

swell

cranberry

tremble

moss

hollow

sheen

sweeping

candlelight

shades

purposeful

words of the day

onset

flippant

splay

frame

determination

explosion

slick

solitude

closure

daydreams

four

pointed

sophisticate

driving

saturation

Grace Potter and the Nocturnals - Tiny Light

Adele - Right As Rain (Live acoustic)

composed... or magnetized... by yours truly :)

Grace Potter & The Nocturnals - Paris (Ooh La La)

today began with anticipation hovering
like a sleepless attendant at my bedside.

later on my usual chocolate was unusually bittersweet
like darling kisses salted with farewell tears.

then a cheshire cat gave me a warning
through the smoke wafting bout his teeth.

i just want to gaze out onto the sea
and long for heaven-sent whisperings,
cottony white and crisp,
a sonorous yearning,
suspended in light and green.

the past follows closely like a shadow.
reflecting, never touching,
affecting, ne'er consulting,
to quietly obey the bidding
of a master ne'er list'ning
to his former ghosts.
whose wisdom he lets go to waste;
a foolish host
in his humanly haste
to forget and depart,
loses his sense of self
and art.

The Bucket List

1. Learn to play the violin
2. Go to Paris
3. Ride a zip-line through the jungle
4. Publish a book
5. Attend a formal traditional Japanese tea ceremony
6. Live in an English cottage
7. Invent a pastry recipe
8. Direct a film
9. See an opera in Austria
10. Go to Jerusalem
11. Bike across Ireland
12. Sleep in a hammock in a palm tree
13. Be in "Mamma Mia"
14. Get a pixie haircut
15. Own a cafe
16. Get married and be blissfully happy
17. Raise my kids to be better than me
18. Pray in the Sistine Chapel
19. Be in a ballroom dancing competition

To be continued...

Mariah Carey - Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) + lyrics

Turandot-Final scene

How does one escape the greats?
The heros and heroines that fill our dreams.
Don't all originals originate in the past?
It's all a copy, a transfigured, unworthy sham.
Hacking away with paper and pen,
While Shakespeare and Socrates lie peacefully motionless in their graves.
It's over, no better minds can praise your work.
Literature died with its ideals,
So science rules over all,
In this hard, perpendicular world,
Colorless and reigned by numbers.
Because science improves
While art decays with commonalities and replicas.
Poets rant and novellists rage
But science is the clever one.
While romance dies,
Chemicals burn and bubble,
Earning well-liquored praise.
Perhaps literature only stumbles on
Within our noble attempts to resurrect it.
That the thankless slavery which we self-inflict,
Is in itself the most ironic tragedy of the ages.

The absolute quality of science
Insults the mind,
Because what we really want to do
Is bend space outside of physics.
The mind has higher standards
Than the universe's galaxies;
Operating without bonds,
Free, violent as wolves.

Words are easier
Than painting pictures, those imprecise nuisances.
Photographs rob the mind
Of imaginative endeavors.
Words facilitate rather than orchestrate;
A hostess, never the life of the party,
Never violating the guest of honor
That is the critical, creative mind.
Words can argue, scold, and soothe,
Pulling in all the senses
With graceful strokes
Humming effortlessly in the air.
Featherlike weightlessness
Frees them from reality's limits.
Paintings boast oppressive, heavy coats of color
Making fools of themselves, embarrassing all nearby.
Cool, collected words with one eyebrow quirked
Sigh pensively, mournfully over the scene,
Almost amused by the amateur's attempts at greatness.

However, when words do encounter
Those divine angels whose lines
Speak of heaven,
Wisdom bows his back and bites his tongue,
While time enacts the rightful revenge,
Like Basil's flouting, fleeting flash of genius.
Charcoal fades, pastels gain a pallor,
While words live eternally,
They can stick around to weave
Biting criticisms of the painting's pride
That filled it up with false aspirations.

The idea hung tentatively on one of the low-lying branches of my mind.
Swaying, considering the ground below with each breath.
Crisp and ripe for plucking, I don't have much time before
It plummets into the void
Of revelations lost.
But this moment suspended is too beautiful,
Too delicate to touch with muddied words.
So I let it fall,
Perfectly tragic,
Dying the death of an untested hero,
Whose potential glories will be inscribed
Into the stars.

words of the day

frantic
wholeness
weight
empty
amadeus
pulse
struggle
drift
tingle
anxiety
isolation
individual
anticipate
solidarity
strain
awareness
absence
filtering
granite
ink
dry
gleaming
veins
forsaken
thread
clasp
arch
shivered
oddity
square
aesthetic

sometimes i just want to peel myself off,
starting from in between my toes.
pulling off behind the heel and along the ridge of my shins,
the cut curving past my knees, encircling my hips.
rip off my spine, tear across my collar bones protruding
and shed my skull, torn at the ears until i lay
shapeless on the floor.

words of the day

cheekbones
wind
levity
brush
rhythm
extend
pine
flutter
cinnamon
concerto
press
awaken
tracing
release
tundra
snuggle
glow
gradation
within
alive
regality
oblivion
chill
pinpoint
nestled
circle
aria

Man was not made to dwell in dark.
His eyes feed hungrily on the light.
He yearns for brightness, and color stark
That saves him from the fear of night.
It's not dank creatures who moan and wail
That make men huddle bout their fires,
Nor the black, heavy, star-studded veil,
Who turns their veins into icy wires.
But, tis candlelight, that cheery host
Who beckons for all to hasten home.
For what man dreads and fears the most,
Is that he's always be, forever, alone.

Whispers falling like the snow that catches in your hair;
Brown tufts stick out from underneath your worn old hat.
You're so stubborn when it comes to keeping that thing around,
Like me.
Your unbreakable gaze holds me fast;
Like a statue, frozen, I wait, helpless.
Until you crack that smile,
That adorable, heart-stopping, genuine smile,
The one that lets me know
You are happy.
Truly.

Whilst flying on an airplane, these words came to me and refused to stay quiet, so I obligingly wrote them down.
Here goes.

"Every time I think of you
It sends a thrill straight through me
Sailing 'cross the open blue
I close my eyes and count to three

Til your smile comes to mind
And the world is filled with sun again
A greater love is hard to find
Twixt a girl and her best friend

I can't imagine life without you
What is breathing with no air?
My childhood dreams have all come true
You're so damn cute it isn't fair

Just wait until you and I go sailing
Across the world and beyond
Your corny jokes are never failing
Make the ocean our little pond

You and I can make them jealous
Dazzle them with our witty charm
Dancing like no one's watching
You, me, always arm and arm

I'll be your audience, your home, your world

Spin me slowly, let me linger
As I spin 'round your little finger

Twasn't fate or destiny's choice
It was scientific law that drew me to you
By the whisper of your knowing voice
And the shrug I always see through

I want to wrap you up in sheets
And always keep you by my side
Send my hopeless love in fleets
Bows cutting through a sea of pride

You make me want to be somebody
Whose worthy of such a man
Until now there's been nobody
Who has my heart already in hand"

Cravings and Carvings

Every afternoon my friend and I lumber into Hesburgh Library's elevator and push the number "13". Our knees buckle underneath the gravitational pull as we rocket above Notre Dame's campus. Stepping onto the cool, waxy floor, we make a beeline for our favorite spot: two desks huddled around a floor-length window, overlooking the stadium and practice fields. From here we can see little figures darting to and fro, and we gaze on with wonder. Those are figures of honor and glory. With our first game this Saturday, our hearts tremble with excitement. The stadium, now empty, will soon roar and pound, the Irish shaking the air with their triumph. Soon all will be forgotten, all but the victorious vaulting of hearts and shouts.

But until then, work must be done.