Bookmarks!

Still making these I believe I passed the 20 requests mark. I had to go get some more ink colors and stamps to play with.

I really do love this hobby and I have a generosity complex, so I don't have any problem making and giving them away to anyone who asks. I haven't been writing much lately either, so this has been giving me something to do in the downtime while I wait for that outlet to come back. To that end, I thought it might be prudent to have a place covering all the options available.




Color choices are now as follows:

- bright red
- rose
- pink
- bright orange
- brownish orange
- "antique linen," a sort of vintage yellow
- bright green
- lighter, more vintage looking green
- blue
- turquoise, similar to blue, but brighter (I don't recommend using this one and the blue)
- violet
- dark brown

And stamps are as follows:

- cross
- Deco lady
- clocks
- oak leaves
- keys
- tree
- pine tree
-  landscape scene with four trees
- mermaid
- dragonfly
- paisley pattern
- bicycle
- celtic knot

Requests are taken by note - tell me what design you want, pick at least three colors, and be sure to give your address so I can mail it to you!

Personal

I did find my writing notebook - it somehow ended up at the bottom of a pile of stuff, probably while I was cleaning my room. So that's one crisis averted. Now if only I felt like writing anything

I learned from Doc that the lady I report to at the radio station has been bragging on me. I'm generally kinda bored around there to be honest, but I'm fast. Friday she had me practice using the recording equipment and reading aloud into the mic - the result of that is that I'll be doing it again next Friday for broadcast. Apparently, I'm a natural

It's that time of the year when things get sluggish. I only have one final this year, and no final papers or anything. It's going to be mostly workingshopping poetry and nonfiction pieces for the rest of the year for me. Which is perfectly fine. Maybe I'll manage to get some radio scripts done while I'm at it.

Been around my parents house all weekend. They went for a drive to look at fall color and needed someone to walk the dog. Mom wanted to play with my stamping stuff as well, so I've done a lot of that too (I'm sure my watchers have noticed ).

Around dA

LiliWrites is hosting a birthday conteset!

Myth and Legend Contest

Poetry Screams

That was short. Apparently, October is contest month.

Features!

thirteen steps to falling in love1. i spend the first two years we know each other sprawled out in the back of our school bus, trying to befriend girls with cigarette ash for skin. it takes months of letting tar settle in my lungs, but finally i find myself sitting next to you. 
2. when we are fourteen, you write out my name in an entirely new alphabet of obtuse triangles and right angles and on a chilly fall morning, dare me to guess who it is you like. i lie my way through the entire school year until two weeks before summer, when you give me all the clues.
3. to this day, you swear you fell in love with me the fall my mother was given her expiration date. i tell you the first morning of our sophomore year, and even though we are too scared to touch, your words would mean more than every heavy embrace up until her funeral.
4. you watch me fall down the stairs just once, and after seeing how i fold in on myself, swear never to see me hurt again. for four years you've caught me, and have amended th  Titles Don't Belong in the First LineTitles don’t belong in the first line,
teacher says,
and poetry is not made of end rhymes.
The ventilated fluorescence and I
flicker at the incongruence
and I want to tell her
sometimes east is left
on the map
if you hold it right.  ForgettingOne day, he will forget the sound of her voice, the way her eyes crinkle at things that no one else finds funny, how she looks when she laughs, the sweetness of her mouth, the pattern of her breathing as she sleeps, and how her skin feels, warm and smooth, beneath his hands.
One day, these things will slowly fade from his mind one by one, and be replaced by thoughts of someone else. She’ll feel it happening as she slips away from his heart, feel it in the spaces between her ribs, where all the things she could never tell him are buried deep. It will make her collapse sometimes, but she will get up and keep going.
One day, he will be asleep with his face buried in someone else’s hair, his arms curled around someone else’s body, in someone else’s bed, and she may creep in. She may tiptoe in to peel back the shroud he’s thrown over the memories of her and everything she gave to him that she could never take back, just to see if they’re still there.
And
the truth behind loving someoneyou didn't love her.
the only movie you watched that ever stuck with you was 500 days of summer, and when she asked you to carry her over the rush of the creek that way that summer would have, you did. you never knew what it was that attracted you to that movie, or the idea of loving a girl as much as the protagonist had, but you assumed it was something you should do. you were young, anyways, and you were good looking, and she, among many, had dropped words in your hands, hoping you'd hold onto something. take it somewhere, ask for more, take more, like you deserved. you don't know why you took more from her. maybe she looked best for the part. you don't really know.
she was happy, always. she listened to music, you knew; she wore her favorite bands like clothing, wore art in her denim and hair length, and maybe she was better looking with makeup on or off, but she looked like a project, color paper cut and placed over her body in haphazard precision. she was a doll, everyone said abo  
  we resolved like a car crashWe resolved like the sickening crash to the indefinite skidding of tires on pavement when the wrong cards are dealt and you forget your lucky rabbit's foot in the shoe box beneath your bed.
Oh, how oblivious I was to the truth that we were living in that final inhale before impact; absent to the true potential of what our separation was capable of.  
And now here we are like the twisted metal and carnage splayed on the pavement in hot July for all to see.