this is my journal. composed mostly of things that i wrote.

i believe that if you think you can, you can. we will all prevail. eventually.

18th November 2009

Photo

   “The candles cast a gentle kind of yellow, flickering glow around the large ballroom. They hung from the chandelier, from sconces on the walls, and sat in little lamps, one to each little, round, white-clothed table. The shadows from these candles flitted across the big, glorious, detailed skirts, and the long black tail coats and top hats of all the elegant, noble ladies and gentlemen that were present. The softly glowing light seemed to accentuate the fact that all the ladies’ dresses were a pale color, like minty green, baby pink, or even the yellow of heavy parchment. And all their masks matched; they were also a pale color (though not necessarily that of the dress). There was the soft laughter and chatter of women, deep throaty chuckles and conversations of men, the tinkling of champagne glasses… Everyone was making some sort of noise… Except for two.    “She stood out because her dress seemed to have some sort of internal glow… Maybe because it was so pristine-ly white against all the pale dresses that just looked like smudges in the backdrop. She also stood out because her half-face mask was black velvet, which stood out prominently against her milk-and-cream skin. It was gilded with gold and beaded with red. He stood out because he was standing still, and he had an orchid blossom pinned to his chest. They were like the calm center of a hurricane, sitting still in the center of the beautiful whirlwind of the rich and elegant. They were kissing. The kind of kiss that was beautiful, passionate, and tragic all at once. It was a last desperate attempt to save them, what they were, and what they could be. It was fiery, it was desperate, and it was sad.    ”And, in the middle of this terrible, beautiful, tragic chaos, a new kind of hope was born.” -Untitled Story 2 (JmR)

   “The candles cast a gentle kind of yellow, flickering glow around the large ballroom. They hung from the chandelier, from sconces on the walls, and sat in little lamps, one to each little, round, white-clothed table. The shadows from these candles flitted across the big, glorious, detailed skirts, and the long black tail coats and top hats of all the elegant, noble ladies and gentlemen that were present. The softly glowing light seemed to accentuate the fact that all the ladies’ dresses were a pale color, like minty green, baby pink, or even the yellow of heavy parchment. And all their masks matched; they were also a pale color (though not necessarily that of the dress). There was the soft laughter and chatter of women, deep throaty chuckles and conversations of men, the tinkling of champagne glasses… Everyone was making some sort of noise… Except for two.

   “She stood out because her dress seemed to have some sort of internal glow… Maybe because it was so pristine-ly white against all the pale dresses that just looked like smudges in the backdrop. She also stood out because her half-face mask was black velvet, which stood out prominently against her milk-and-cream skin. It was gilded with gold and beaded with red. He stood out because he was standing still, and he had an orchid blossom pinned to his chest. They were like the calm center of a hurricane, sitting still in the center of the beautiful whirlwind of the rich and elegant. They were kissing. The kind of kiss that was beautiful, passionate, and tragic all at once. It was a last desperate attempt to save them, what they were, and what they could be. It was fiery, it was desperate, and it was sad.

   ”And, in the middle of this terrible, beautiful, tragic chaos, a new kind of hope was born.”

-Untitled Story 2 (JmR)