It is forbidden to kill; therefore all murderers are punished unless they kill in large numbers and to the sound of trumpets.
-Voltaire
I much prefer the truth to a witty quote.
Yet, at the same time I would spurn even the most honest if they lacked proper English.
The excessive use of the word 'like' never properly appealed to me.
Nor speaking skills below a first grader.
I've somehow become attached to British shows.
The great Doctor Who and Torchwood.
Despite the fact I've bashed them first...
My music is too vast to be truly divulged.
Somewhere lost within modern pop-punk, the general epics, random electronica and more.
Though, that's not very telling, is it?
I go by Lissa.
News:
(Nov. 16, 2008) Alright, how many will want to hurt me for this one? I haven't updated--sorry? Also, I've completely and utterly given up on the one and only idea I had for the story that I feel I need to write. Alas, never fear! Before you load your guns and hunt me down, I am not entirely hopeless: my friend gave me an idea I've become rather fond of which was in itself inspired by The Waverly Myth by Templeton21--who you should definitely check out, being my favorite writer here--and a bit of all the David Tennant we've been watching.
I'm still fleshing this out, and (as always) there's by far no gaurantee that it'll ever be posted, but I've my hopes up.
(Nov. 8, 2008) I felt like a poem. Which is to say that I've been failing miserably at the story I truly need to be writing, and on top of that have decided for some stupid reason to heed my teacher's words and join the school newspaper and have even more work piling up due to my habitual procrastination than normal. Basically, I like screwing myself over.
I do sort of like the poem though--Let Me In. If only because I've been trying to comprehend my own head lately because of some less than stellar worries and ponderings. As well, there's always the time when someone who is possibly one of the best people you know and couldn't possibly mean anything by it begins preaching about something or another as a taunt. I suppose this wasn't the best week for that to happen to me--at least not for what it was. Considering this can be my place to rant: I have far too many inferiority issues that I never tell and so only worsen. I have far too many fears of mostly one thing. And the one thing I believe I'm even slightly good at--this, basically, writing--I'm still subsidiary at. It couldn't help at all that that's what I was being taunted of, of how someone else had a higher Lexile score (which in itself is a stupid, computer based and probably untrustable test) of our English class. The highest possible level in fact. Where as I had, well, nearly half it--which I certainly didn't feel like sharing.
Enough babbling, yes? I promise I will work on, if not the challenge I've set for myself, at least some sort of story for my next update. And hopefully it will be out faster than this lousy poem.
(Oct. 22, 2008) Alright, so I've posted another one of my glorious fragments, this one by the name of The Inverse Echo--a title that isn't explained as much as I would like for it to be, but I do see as fit.
This might be the more important bit, though: I've decided that I can no longer stand the standstill I've come to. The longest story I've ever actually finished to even a slightly satisfying end was only five increments--and that might not even count as it was nearly entirely paralleled on reality, making it easy. Plus, I've only ever really had female leads (other than Who To Trust, which doesn't count so much as he wasn't integrated much). So (cue dark, foreboding music), I have to write a story; a real story, with a fair amount of chapters and a male lead.
Alas, I'm only at the very very basics of it right now, and will want a few increments done before I post it--if I ever do--so this may be the last of me for a while.
FictionPress.com - let the words flow
