Character-Self Chat Showing 7,801-7,850 of 8,611

[[deleted user]]

Me: I kindof flipped out on her:

"WTF ARE YOU KIDDING ME? THAT'S THE BEST PICTURE. e.O Pfft, pffffffffft, PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT..." And so on. xD I'm all OCD about this, lol.

If my mom ever found me smoking she'd cut my hands off with the machete we have.

[., Goddess of Bacon]

Me: LOL. It is his best picture, isn't it. :3

My mother doesn't know. Ah, well. It's not an addiction, thank goodness, but I do like it and it's unfortunate that I do. :/ One stick is 30 minutes of your life, I'm told.

[., Goddess of Bacon]

Me: Writing another memoir-type thing but about my last dance solo. :)

Illusion

My power is complete.

The audience is just a black blur of faces. Various people that I know are probably smiling at me as I make the entrée of the piece. I do not care. I do not see.

Each step, each fluid run on silken shoes feels like it is new to me. It does not feel as if I have been rehearsing the same steps for half a year, my teachers barking out instructions, the others of my class watching in envy when I am praised and malicious amusement when rebuked. They’re behind the black velvet curtains, now.

And I am in front.

Alone.

The piano starts at a trickle and I can barely hear it at first for the blood pounding through my ears. It calms after a moment—dead calm. I am now only aware of the music and my body.

Do not think about the steps, I’ve been told. It will come to you as naturally as breathing.

And it does—more naturally than breathing. There’s that rustle of my long skirt, the romantic tutu, as I come to a whirling halt in the middle of the stage and wait for my prince to come save me. There’s the silent pad of my steps, which took me ages to perfect, the quieting of the hard blocks. Encased in satin, pointe shoes may seem the most delicate footwear available, but it’s a lie, it’s an illusion. Most of ballet is an illusion. Then again, I suppose, as I stand there frozen in time and space, my position an unwavering ice statue, most times life is an illusion as well.

He comes slowly from behind, my prince, with slow and courageous steps. We dance with each other, I the coquette and he the pursuer. Eventually he grasps my waist in a movement that will seem sudden. Some motions of the dance are exaggerated, and the expression of surprise I must adapt with my next step is paired with his victorious turn.

Cooper and I have been friends for years. He’s like my brother, this dance partner of mine, and yet as of this moment he transforms into a Prince Charming straight from the fairytales. Our love is suddenly written in the cosmos as an irrevocable statement; a law. So long as there will be stars in the sky I will love him. So long as the sun sets in the west he will love me. The celestial dance that happens at the moment is tied to ours—the slow movements of the planets wrap around us and join us in this once-in-a-lifetime happening.

And then he pulls away, just as I am beginning to enjoy his embrace, and the music is flitting and fleeing and now I am the one running after him, now I am the chaser and he is escaping.

He’s gone—he disappears off the stage with a leap and I hear a hurried good luck muttered from my friend as the prince leaves.

Now I am lost in grief. Wringing my hands, I look for him, perform the dance that so many male counterparts have performed after their lovely ballerinas teasingly disappear. Contemporary ballet—role reversal. I love it. I love this.

[[deleted user]]

Me: It is and I love it. ^^ His eyes just kill me.

Gotta go. :/

[., Goddess of Bacon]

Me: ^Bye Van! <3

[Iviana (The Sign Painter), The Goddess of indecisiveness]

Me: GUESS WHAT.

I HAVE TO WRITE A PAPER ON INVENTION NO. 8 BY J.S. BACH. AND IT'S DUE TOMORROW. DAMMIT. e-O it's gonna put me to sleep. roar.

[Moon]

Me: Hello Ivi!

[Iviana (The Sign Painter), The Goddess of indecisiveness]

Me: HAI.

[Moon]

Me: I have a bit of insomnia right now, so I can talk.

[Iviana (The Sign Painter), The Goddess of indecisiveness]

Me: Awws.that sucks.

[Moon]

Me: Yes...and no. That means that I can talk longer with you now. Normally, I would start to be tired at this time, but I'm far from tired.

I had to get off the comp earlier for a reason different from what I thought. My parents had said that they needed it, but they just wanted me to go to eat dinner, and then play my clarinet for a while. My lips and the side of my thumb is sore.

[Iviana (The Sign Painter), The Goddess of indecisiveness]

Me: Ah. Well, that makes sense. My mom does that to me. -.-' it's bothersome, but I understand. ^^

[Moon]

Me: Yeah. My conversation was like this:

Mom: Alexandra, you need to practice your clarinete. [Lol that was Spanglish.]

Me: Yo ya se, Mami. Lo voy a hacer in a second.
[Translation: I already know, Mom. I'm going to do it.]

Mom: No quieres ir a Harvard? [Don't you want to go to Harvard?]

and so on...


Argeblah. My mom is super demanding.

[Iviana (The Sign Painter), The Goddess of indecisiveness]

Me: Same. :/ It's so hard. >_<

BAH. especially since writing a report on a Baroque piece is incredibly dull. e-O

[Moon]

Me: o.O That sucks. Majorly. How can I help you?

[Iviana (The Sign Painter), The Goddess of indecisiveness]

Me: I'm alright. But it's just... SO repetitive. e-O

You have one motif, which is part of a larger motif that I didn't realize until after I wrote a crapload. >~> Argh. I'm almost done. He didn't specify how long, so mine's only like, a long paragraph. But either way, he wants it hand written.

[Moon]

Me: Ouch. I hate working with motifs.

Hmm... I actually like hand writing my stuff. I dunno why.

[Iviana (The Sign Painter), The Goddess of indecisiveness]

Me: My handwriting's all cursive, so I'm scared he can't read it. >_< If he can't read it... I'm screwed.

[Moon]

Me: o.o My handwrting is extremely messy, when I write in print. In cursive, it's actually kinda pretteh.

[Iviana (The Sign Painter), The Goddess of indecisiveness]

Me: And I quote: "You're handwriting is really nice... but kinda hard to read."
So in other words, it looks nice, but it's impossible to read because of the script. ^^'

Same here.

[Moon]

Me: I call it...

The Curse of the Lefties!

[Iviana (The Sign Painter), The Goddess of indecisiveness]

Me: I love how true that is.

[Moon]

Me: Yeah, it actually is true. There is only one person that I have ever met in my life, who actually had very neat handwriting, and was a lefty. She was my pre-algebra teacher, in sixth grade. Even more surprising, she actually kept her neat handwriting when writing on the dry-erase board, and she didn't smudge.

[Iviana (The Sign Painter), The Goddess of indecisiveness]

Me: o.O Did her hand cramp up? 'Cause mine does whenever I write on a white board or any other similar surface.

[Moon]

Me: Oddly enough, no. She did, however, have a weird way she gripped her markers and pens.

Same here. I get this weird hand spasms sometimes after writing on the board. It's kinda freaky. Also, sometimes my thumb gets 'locked' in a position, and so do my feet sometimes.

[Iviana (The Sign Painter), The Goddess of indecisiveness]

Me: That makes sense.

My toes lock sometimes. It's annoying, and painful. >_< If I grip my pencil too hard for too long, the right side of it starts hurting.

[Moon]

Me: Yeah. Same here, except it isn't my toes. It's the center of my foot. It stays in an arched position.

[Iviana (The Sign Painter), The Goddess of indecisiveness]

Me: My toes stay bent forward. When I try to move it back, it hurts like hell. But then it eventually goes back to normal.

My arches hurt. Like, a lot. I think it's because of a. my shoes, and b. ballet. <-that was unintentional.

[Moon]

Me: I used to take ballet, but it hurt my arches soooo much, that I had to stop. You see, I used to be really, really flat footed. I had to do all sorts of weird physical therapy for my feet.

[Iviana (The Sign Painter), The Goddess of indecisiveness]

Me: I'm slightly flatfooted. >_< it's not fun to point and go up.
And apparently, I have an issue where I completely lock my knees so my chiropractor says I'm unstable.

[Moon]

Me: o.o I was born extremely flatfooted, but apparently it was genetic, because my paternal grandfather was really flatfooted too. Eventually, my flat footedness cured itself. I had to do weird exercises like scrunching up my feet like a bridge shape or a wide 'n', and I would have to walk around at least thirty minutes each day.

[Iviana (The Sign Painter), The Goddess of indecisiveness]

Me: my friend's flat footed and she's a dancer, so it sucks for her. She has to roll her feet on a tennis ball each night because her doctor said she could potentially be in a wheel chair by the time she's forty.

[Moon]

Me: o.O

That sucks a lot. Wow. I'd be really scared.

Oh! It's 1:15 am here! I should try to sleep. Nighty night,Ivi.

Wait. It is pronounced Ih-vee, right?

[Iviana (The Sign Painter), The Goddess of indecisiveness]

Me: Yush. It is pronounced that way. ^^
nightnight.

[Moon]

Me: Why isn't there anyone here? D:

[[deleted user]]

Me: >,< I hate the county. F/CK THE COUNTY e-O

Our AC broke down; huddled by the heater for warmth.

[Moon]

Me: Van!

[., Goddess of Bacon]

Me: HI GUYS. That sucks, Vanny. Make some tea!! :)

I feel like such a badass. Skipped biology and math to go get James' tattoo now he's 18-- then me, him and Sara went to get pizza at Pizzaiolio which is the BEST pizza place ever. We were gonna get Hot Nory (sun dried tomatos, special sauce, jalapeno peppers) but Sara doesn't like spicy. James looks at the menu one more time and whines, "But it's like Josh Beech on pizza!" That made me laugh soooo hard.
THEN we went and raided an art store and blew all our money, but not quite, THEN we went to the yummiest froyo place in Toronto, called Menchie's (go there this summer, Alex, you won't regret it) and spent about 25 bucks on froyo for three. It was amazing. They had pina colada, banana bread, caramel, frozen hot chocolate, and green apple tart as flavours, plus a toppings bar. 49 cents per ounce.

Phew. That was my day. XD

[[deleted user]]

Me: ALEX.

HUG ME SO I DON'T GO VANSICLE ON YOU.

[., Goddess of Bacon]

Me: HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII.

[[deleted user]]

Me: HEY YOU I BE STUPID AND NEED HELP. :D
HEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY.

[., Goddess of Bacon]

Me: TELL ME WHAT YOU NEED HELP WITH. I AND MY TRULY DISMAL AWESOME MATH SKILLS WILL HELP.

[[deleted user]]

Me: YEAH~
So I know to graph something like:

y < 8x + 2, so I get that. I get the basics.

I have no idea how to do:

x < 8, because it has no y.

[., Goddess of Bacon]

Me: Ooooooh.

... >.< Crap. I really don't know, I'm so sorry, Van. Try Googling it.

I remember doing those equations, but math that I don't use after a month flies right out of my head. No example in your textbook?

[[deleted user]]

Me: Nooooooooooooooooooooooooo~
>,< Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit--zu.
We aren't allowed to have a textbook; if I had one math would be so much easier.

[., Goddess of Bacon]

Me: o.o That's very strange and cruel unnecessary punishment.

D: I WISH I WAS SMARTER, VANNY, I'M SO SORRY

[[deleted user]]

Me: :( IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT.
EDWIN SAYS MR. T(my teacher) IS A D/CK FOR NOT TEACHING US.
He tells us to look it up and figure it out. e3e His favourite line: "This is why you're in honours."

ANYWAYS, I GOT SOME CLAY~

[., Goddess of Bacon]

Me: OOOOH, CLAY. I HAVE CLAY TOO. I LOVE CLAY. IT'S SO AWESOME. EXCEPT WHEN YOU HAVE TO MAKE A TEAPOT OUT OF IT. THEN IT'S ICKY. :( It dries too quickly.

:/ I feel like I'm in Camp Half-Blood. I have to write an essay on why Athens' political system was better than Sparta's.

BECAUSE THIS IS SPARTA, DAMMIT! *kicks history teacher off cliff*

LOL, but not really, cos I love her. xD

[[deleted user]]

Me: o.o Whoa...I'm taking World History Honours next year--WAIT, NO I'M NOT. >,< BECAUSE I LIVE.
Holly: o.O *awkwardly pats shoulder* There, there...

[., Goddess of Bacon]

Me: HOLLY, WRITE MY ESSAY FOR ME. :3

>.< I wish she legitimately could. It's so boring. And it's in French. -.-

But yeah, take it, it's actually really fun. And you get to learn about all the ancienct civilisations and cultures and interesting fun things. I need more positive adjectives.