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Non-Fiction

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you said, "how ready  
we were to make love  
to bones."   
 
 
My childhood: I never could get my eyes to bulge like SpongeBob's.   
Conceited, I said I'm not finished yet and pulled on your ponytails like shafts of rain, and I hoped you would overlook my skin. I rode a purple Scooter and sometimes I would get onto my bicycle and pray that I wouldn't forget. You wore red hair once and sometimes it was black, and sometimes you were teaching me how not to eat and sometimes you were teaching me how to have tea parties in a backyard. At some point you were Irish and at some point you were Indian. Once I ca in General Non-Fiction
Here we go again...   
First of all, I would like to make clear that this chart is not meant to be all inclusive, but rather to be used as a guide for the general placement of art.  Sub categories of art such as fauvism, cubism, dadaism, minimalism, pop art, rococo, symbolism, ect... are not shown here.  Cubism, for example, I call a sub category, because basically it can be placed in the abstract expressionism area based on the amount of abstraction and imagination that is seen in such works.  Don't get me wrong, a lot of these sub classifications are important, at least historically, and at most styli in Philosophical
I see...   
I see a remarkable person who deserves the world.  I see someone who is not afraid to speak the truth.  I see a writer who just made me cry for the first time in far too long.  I see beauty in the one who allows themselves to differ.  I see a little girl who reminds me of myself.   
 
I see a friend.   
I see you. in General Non-Fiction
In Oz: Dream On   
* An escalation by BeautifulExperience *   
 
Once upon a time I visited the Sun Yat Tsen Garden in Downtown Vancouver, and the first look on your astonishing picture made me go back to the summer of 2005. But this is more than a deja vu; it's a wonderful trip to great landscapes below and beneath, to visions of the soul inside and to dreams about other possibilities than of the usual kind. in Reviews
There isn't a second without people.  They walk around me.  With their impressive noses  Poking into everyone else's business.  Dreaming of the days when you could disappear,  I put my head down.  And I beg for a moment's peace and cloaking from this  
tasteless rite that repeats for all eternity. in General Non-Fiction
in Satire
Is there something wrong?  Could it really be?  Surely I must be seeing things.  I looked at my screen to find something that I never though would happen.   
I was online playing Smash Brothers and get this -- NOBODY WAS USING IKE.   
Yes, that's right, for once I didn't have to worry about Ike's B-Up spamming and his annoying over-powered strength.   
I really could not believe my eyes.  Could it be that people started unlocking characters and so now the people who main Ike will stop being a joke to the rest of the SSB community?  I hope so.   
I was fi in General Non-Fiction
It's been three weeks.  
 
Three weeks ago, my body suddenly decided it was having problems falling asleep. I'd lay awake for hours, watching the room get progressively bluer. There was no reason to really want to get to sleep early as I'm unemployed. But that didn't make it suck any less.  
 
Used to sleeping a solid ten hours (as recommended by my physician), I was suddenly pulling four--less if I slept sporatically. I'd wake up completely dead, everything about ten feet away from me. Like I was in some foggy dream state--wait, was I really dreaming?  
 
Over the three weeks, I tried every method known to man, in Journalism
I see a lot of people begging for comments. And when they don't get said comments, I see these same people turn into whiney little bitches.  
 
Hey, now don't get me wrong! Comments and awesome! So are favorites. But when people start getting whiney about it, a line's gotta be drawn somewhere.  
 
Here is an essay on my opinion of comments and faving.  
 
First off, people don't always have something to say. Whether it's because the art looks so good to them that they don't know if it needs any critique or they just wanna avoid using the same "kawaii" or "cool" or simple gerneric one-word comments. Or they just c in Essays
Our Critical Friends have been working hard for one another, almost to the neglect of their own writing, and we'd like to take this opportunity to thank them for their efforts.  We promise it won't be in vein!  It's also important to note that this process slows or quickens based on how many questions there are left to ask and how well the writer wants to answer them.     
And it's the writer's role we'd like to begin with today.   
 
Is this a Revolution?   
When receiving critique, especially on the internet, the rules change from site to site.  However, the unfortun in General Non-Fiction
Tore Down in a Heartbeat, All That Which Makes Us Smile,  Ended, Halted, Destroyed,  There Exists No Sugar-Coated Words  With Which To Depict This Song of Sorrows To Which We Find Ourselves Enslaved.   
Deaths Wings Enfold Us All,  And What Chance Do Any of Us Have to Stop Them?  A Few Well-Wishing Words From A Few Well-Meaning Friends,  Does Nothing To Slow That Endless Procession.   
Give Up, Give In, For We Are Never To Win. in Philosophical
Je suis triste. Je pense. J'observe. Je réalise. & Je me dit. Que sans eux, la vie est impossible. J'ai passer 8 ans avec les gens du nord ( Les CH'TIS ). Aujourd'hui voila 3 mois a peu prés que je suis sans vous. Le 19 Mai c'est mon anniversaire en plus. Et je ne serais même pas là pour passer cet événement avec vous... Voilà un mois que je suis amoureuse. Mercredi je lui ai confié mon amour par MSN. Il m'a répondu hier. Mais il m'a dis que je lui plaisait un peu, mais qu'il n'avais pas de sentiments. Je ne comprend plus rien. Et ces coups d'oeil ? Et ces regards les yeux dans les yeux ? Je ne com in Biographies
I just finished reading it. I finished it this morning, at 8:23 am.  
 
I don't know if I can put into words the beauty and the significance I've found in this book, but I can try. I think there was a message from him in there, too. That he's bigger than all this. That he's even more lovely.   
So today I got up before sunrise and watched some standup comedy on the internet. I felt that ache in my heart, the one that happens when I need to be away from the computer and the second, man-made layer of life that it paints over me, but I didn't give it up at first. That second layer of grime has a numbing effect, and it's hard in General Non-Fiction
Dropping to my knees beside the tiny kithkin, I find it hard to believe it was only an hour ago that we found her out in the grass, buzzing with flies. She's lying on her side now, breathing shallow. Every so often her long ears twitch, or her longer legs kick. I look into her eyes, and all I see is a blank, unseeing stare. I reach towards the top of the cage to take it off, and she kicks wildly as though to run. I pull back sharply. It takes me a few more tries before she lays still as I remove the cover. She wouldn't be able to escape now, even if she tried. I just want her to die without something on all sides of her. I lean close to her, in General Non-Fiction
My Pet Peeves  Everyone has a pet peeve that’s just itching to be heard. Well, here are a few of my pet peeves. If I sound like a total bitch, then you’re a hypocrite because EVERYONE has at least ONE pet peeve.  
 
 
PET PEEVE # 1: Narutards  Are you sick and tired of those people walkin’ around with all this Naruto crap (no offense to the ACTUAL fans wearin’ the gear because I mean the ones who THINK they‘re ninjas), doing tricks that they’ve only practiced HALFway with their mom’s beat-up kitchen knives and your dad’s novelty shop items? I am. And if you are a Narutard, BELIE in Satire
Getting to my feet, I wander and weave through the many gravestones.  
The newborns, proclaimed with little pictures of lambs and cradles. Who would they have grown up to be?  
The military men, sporting fluttering american flags. Did they want this?  
The forgotten ones. The ones I find most heart-wrenching. The stones that have drooped or fallen, the lettering hard or impossible to read, the people who haven't seen flowers for the longest. They have no living relatives left, or maybe they have just been forgotten. Looking around, I find some flowers, real flowers, growing around the edges of the cemetery. Plucking them from t in General Non-Fiction
...   
For once Flippy was scared, but it wouldn't be the last time. "Duck, you moron!" someone yelled. And in a slipt second Flippy -apropriatly-   
Flipped out.  Flippy jumped and grabbed the RP-nade in mid-flight. Then he tossed it to where he saw the blast. That when he saw the AntiArmor Lancher and its user. Peices of the enemy solider and Lancher wizzed threw the air. Blood splatered everywere, even blinding some soilders. After that it was all fuzzy, Flippy didn't remember the rest of the massacar. Flippy killed eveyone! He even killed the narartor. I'm new here so roll with me. This gos on the top of the list in General Non-Fiction
Snow.  I am starting to loathe snow.  Knapper parked my car  
up at the end of the driveway last night so I could leave for  
appointments this morning.  I walked the quarter mile with my  
bag which holds my equipment (scales, BP stuff, sharps container,  
various other medical paraphernalia) and the portable ecg machine.  
A nice little treck in the snow.  Once to my car I discover I have  
left all of the necessary paperwork back at the house.      
Like someone without a brain, I drive down to get it.  I'm cold, I  
don't want to in Biographies
HOME:  As the winged messenger of silver slowly descended upon the town, it was clear to me, that this was my home. My lips were curved up into a small smile, the first feeling of home since I had moved.   
The borders of the two countries were covered by a large lake, perhaps large enough to be an ocean in the dusk. I had a hard time concealing the smile on my face, because I knew my dad would ask me why I was smiling when we were only staying for a few days. We didn’t live here, not anymore.   
My home was where the sky and the oceans merged. It was as if it sat on a dark plain of abyss, there was nothing but t in General Non-Fiction
For a while, I've been pondering the meaning of "inspiration" for the sole purpose of applying it to my artwork. I've encountered many troubles in arriving to the conclusion of what, to me, the definition of inspiration is.Over the past few months --actually quite tempted to say years-- obstacles in my thinking have caused me to fall into frequent "art slumps." Instead of attempting to figure out the problem, I would go about struggling to churn out works... with little to no luck. Most of my drawings were the same thing over and over again: the human body, the human face, or some creature or animal or character of mine.Though these involunta in Philosophical
I wander the rooms where I have spent  
my life in surrender under the terms agreed  
upon long ago.  I touch the bits and pieces  
of our accumulated past and wonder at  
the twists and turns that have brought  
us to this broken promise.  
 
I gaze out the windows at the trees I helped  
plant, the lawn I mowed, the rose bushes  
I have fed and pruned.  Here.  This place  
where I thought I would die.  
 
I drive down the familiar road that has seen  
our comings and goings, past  
the homes of a family I considered mine.  
I was stupid. in Biographies
The sound of the sewing machine is somewhat... comforting.  I wouldn't say that to you, couldn't- I actually find it to be odd myself, but its loud buzzing and light beeps are soothing to me.  I can hear the noise from my bedroom, and I often confuse it with the computer.  Ironically, my temper readies so that I can get angry and yell at you for using my computer.  But then I listen for a few more moments, and I hear that you're just at the sewing machine, making a dress for Ellie.  When Lillie and I were young, you would always make us costumes; Halloween, parties, our birthdays- any occasion in General Non-Fiction
Lagrimas Y LLuvia   
Camino hoy bajo la lluvia, y sus frías gotas esconden las lagrimas que de mis ojos salen, tu recuerdo es cada vez mas fuerte pero debo sobreponerme ante esta situación que me intenta dominar.  Camino lentamente y mientras mas avanzo mas fuerte se vuelve la lluvia empapándome y yo solo espero que esta lluvia lave estos sentimientos de tristeza que me dejo tu adiós.  Mis lagrimas escondidas no cesan y son demasiadas, siento que mi corazón también llora junto con mis ojos, junto con mi espíritu y mi razón.  Sigo caminando y me siento tan solo, no creo que nada in General Non-Fiction
Despondent  Emotional  Pissed  Regretting  Excluded  Seperated  Sick  Intimidated  Oppressed  Nude   
 
What is the meaning of this?   
It's over?  My life is over?  I'm done?  Just like that?   
This depression  causing oppression  Is a detection  of early intimidation  by my Stressor  who is my lesser...   
 
The emotional consequences  of my nudeness in this world of ours  Regretting everything I do and feel...  Seperated, Excluded from the people;  from the goodness of heart;  from in Journalism

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