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“In my presence you might wake
Through this fiction I must fake
Your death to grace the face of my character
With these lessons he might learn
That all worlds from here must burn
For as God demands in the end we miss.”

I love Coheed and Cambria. I’m greatly saddened that I’ve only listened to one of their albums, now that I realize how deep the story behind the whole discography goes.

Again, I find myself staring down a pair of days off.  It’s very strange. I have only worked one day out of the last five. I know that this is due to asking a coworker to cover a shift so that I could make it home, but still. It’s a little disconcerting to feel so thoroughly unemployed while still having a job. Today should be a day for filling out more job applications, but it’s more likely to see more creative writing than truly productive writing. That is the hope, anyway. In all honesty, I’d be quite happy if either of those plans works out.

As I (think) I have said, I recently returned home for the funeral of my great uncle. He and I shared a name, albeit spelled differently. Apparently, however, this caused no small bit of uproar in my hometown. See, I’m from a LITTLE town. Everyone knows everyone. So when a funeral notice went around town that happened to have my name on it, some people freaked out, thinking that yours truly had gone and kicked the bucket. It was an oddly funny bit of an experience to tack on to the sad circumstance of seeing family at a funeral. I can also now say that reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated. 😀

Rime has haunting eyes. They shift from gray to blue to green, depending on the light and his mood. This is going to severely freak Arsus out the first time he sees it happen. They’re going to be a major part of his emotional displays. The man is dedicated to his beliefs, and when he sees something that challenges all that he holds to be good and true, his eyes are going to show the struggle going on within him. In a similar manner, when he’s asked to make a choice for the greater good, any character paying close attention will be able to see an almost wistful look in his eyes. I’m choosing the eyes because of how frequently I’m told that my eyes are incredibly expressive. Rime and I have a great deal in common. I think that this makes him the easiest and yet most difficult character to write. While I can easily write him as me, the question is how much of myself should I allow myself to write into him. Where do I need to draw the line between character and writer? Should he be the narrator? Which is a greater problem, faith without belief, or belief without faith? (Thank you, V).

One last thing before I head off to writing for today. One of my good friends is a musician, putting together a bunch of house/trance music. You can check out his soundcloud page and listen to all of his current tracks here.

 

2 Comments

  1. Eyes to me are always a very important feature to describe, especially if there’s anything important or unusual about them. I like your idea for Rime’s eyes changing color, because I have a friend whose eyes do that, it’s so cool. Most of the time they’re blue, but I’ve seen them look stormcloud grey, a gorgeous shade of green, violet, and even this aquamarine color, depending on the weather, what she’s wearing, and how she’s feeling. When she cries, her eyes shine like beacons.

  2. You’re welcome. I do what I can. 🙂

    Also, creative writing is just as productive as any other kind. Pat once said to me after one of my venting rants about how much I had to do and how I was going to get zero writing done that night “You’re about to graduate. You have a lot to do. It’s okay to take a break from the real world for one night in order to do some homework.”

    The creative world is the real one. Your life as a writer is the true life. We may not always have time to spend in our reality, but I don’t know anyone who spends every moment being who they truly are in the situation where they belong. That doesn’t make it any less real, or the time we do spend in it any less productive.


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