Chromatic Compositions

...Grasp a pen and begin
Scritch scratch

Trembling fingers

Knuckles cracking
Bench creaking

Dance across steel and ivory

Eyes up front

Freeze, then
Breathe out

Let's give a round of applause
_~"Hands"

I was talking to Shuichi one day about a few piano songs by Enya he wanted me to learn, and it gave me a few story ideas, but even more than that, it got me to thinking.

If I lost the use of my hands for any reason, I think I would die. Honestly. Not just because we use our hands for everyday things like holding things and moving them and the like. But for the wonderful things we do with our hands to create.

I can write stories with my hands.
I can make music with my hands.
I can create.

I started to think about how lost I would be with writing or music. If I couldn't do either of them, I'd be completely devastated.

I think a few months ago, I was talking with Yuki how cool it would be to get together with a small group of friends to make an ensemble and play in a public place together to collect money for a charity for deaf children.

Living in a world where you couldn't hear a thing and everything is silent... How terrible. :/

And yesterday, Shuichi and I were discussing perhaps starting a write-a-thon of sorts at our school to raise money for NaNo.

I would love to do both of these things. I think I just might do both.

I feel lucky. I have hands. I have ears. I can create. I can make things better. ♥

Not a star could be seen in the pitch black night sky. I purse my lips broodingly and stare absently at the blinking cursor on the screen before me.

Just try to think of another word to type, it leers. I dare you.

My expression sours, cursing that small flashing line of mere pixels. How does something as simple as a line dictate and take complete hold of my mind?

I tap my pencil against my notebook listlessly, not in the mood to listen to my teacher lecture today. I could feel myself falling into a haze, soon getting caught up in the world of one of my characters. Like the artist in front of a block of marble, I chipped away at the unnecessary bits, coming closer and closer to my target.

If I want to get good grades, it would be best for me to stop dreaming, I realize shortly. I fall back down to Earth with a disappointed smile. Time to start studying again.


_{(This lovely little stamp can be found here, created by vamptasticA.)}

Ah, the life of a young writer. School is really nothing but a hindrance to one's art.

Somehow, in between the chaos of starting a new semester and shifting around the knives I've been juggling, I've actually made some headway on my story. I've gotten over 2000 words on it now.

When I first started sketching out this story, I had a faint outline of what was to come. I essentially had the characters vividly drawn out and a barely there skeleton of a plotline. I thought that it was going to be an easy oneshot that I could crank out in one sitting, in a couple hours, tops.

I never anticipated it to take so much time. But even beyond that, I never expected to be so in love with this story. I would close my eyes and suddenly I was seeing through the eyes of "Jonathan" (the protagonist's temporary name) - I cringed at the pain he experienced, I began to map out my suddenly unfamiliar surroundings in a daze. A self-satisfied smirk settled itself on my face, uninvited. These feelings weren't mine. Suddenly I was that rebellious teenage boy who did as he pleased, dumped in a new environment.

I really love this story. Once the next plot bunny to progress it hits me, I feel really happy to start spinning this yarn. This may turn out that it necessitates being split into two chapters. Maybe even three.

NaNoWriMo (International Novel Writing Month) was a daring and crazy thing for me to take on; I still can't really believe I conquered it. That was most definitely what solidified my love for the written word. Now, thanks to Miss cinnamon-quill and many other fantastic deviants, I've become a stronger and more prolific writer than ever before.

<3

For one moment, Jonathan's curled simper is my own as I sneer at the blinking cursor. Just try and stop me.

This is it.

This is how it should be.

This is the life.