About
I'm one of those creative types, who's always listening to music, reading, or sketching away one of my ideas. Most of the time I'm thinking, and it's ussually not a good idea to ask "about what?" because I might start up a three-hour-long conversation. But that's just how I am.Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
And thro' the field the road runs by
To many-tower'd Camelot;
And up and down the people go,
Gazing where the lilies blow
Round an island there below,
The island of Shalott.
Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Through the wave that runs for ever
By the island in the river
Flowing down to Camelot.
Four grey walls, and four grey towers,
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle imbowers
The Lady of Shalott.
(Lady of Shalott by Alfred Lord Tennyson)
Although I'm creative, and constantley day dreaming, I'm suprisingly down-to-earth, and find myself becoming "The Voice of Reason" for many of my boy-crazy friends who are constantly forsaking common sense for love and boys. I've gone through a lot of pain, but you wouldn't know it by looking at me. I always try to be cheerful, although sometimes I get a little aggrivated with others.
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
(The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost)
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow--
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand--
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep--while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
(Dream Within a Dream by Edger Allen Poe)
Please enjoy some of my favorite music playing at the top right hand corner, and let your mind slip into the deepest depths of thought.
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Get a hold of me when your on here. I miss hearing you.
I'm always on here,
(hugs)
Hi biggrin
Miss hearing from you!!
How are you ^_^
call me Darkness_Night Wolf. ......I'm a dark blak wolf.. smile