Sunny

I’ve been nominated for the Sunshine award! I’d like to thank Kip for this honour- Thank you for reading and liking my blog. I know I pushed this post for quite some time.

 

The rules

1. If you are nominated, you must blog a post linking back to the person/blog that nominated you.

2. You must answer some questions, nominate ten fellow bloggers and link their blogs to the post.

3. You should comment on your nominees’ blogs to let them know you’ve nominated them.

 

The questions

1. Who is your favorite philosopher?

One of my favourite musicians- Emilie Autumn.

2. What is your favorite number?

3. And not just because it’s the number of the next question.

3. What is your favorite animal?

Dog. Specifically, my dog. And I’d rather you said “who”. 😉

4. What are your Facebook and Twitter URLs?

I do remember to tweet, occasionally: https://twitter.com/MissAnnaNymus

5. What is your favorite time of the day?

Any time that’s not early morning, I guess. Although, sometimes I don’t mind those either- usually when I haven’t gone to bed to begin with.

6. What was your favorite vacation?

When I was 11, I did what was for the most part, a road trip, in Europe with my parents. It was a packaged tour, with plans set for nearly every day, which I’ve come to realise suits me best when visiting new places. It was a fun trip that spanned three weeks and included UK, France, Switzerland, Rome, and Germany. Our coach driver was hilarious and UNO cards kept those of us under the age of 12 more than occupied for the long hours spent on the road. The trip taught me a lot- I witnessed timeless architecture, landscapes, burlesque, and unfortunately, racism.

7. What is your favorite physical activity?

Dancing alone.

8. What is your favorite non-alcoholic drink?

We’ve been here before- Vanilla Oolong Tea.

9. What is your favorite flower?

Hydrangeas.

10. What is your passion?

Writing, REM dreaming, TV, and music.

 

My nominees for the award:

Witty Title Here

Mix & Match Meme

Sylver Blaque

One in a Billion Blog

Have Logic,Will Travel

Snippets of Quirkiness

Hairspray and Hemingway

Interior Stockholm 

Knowledge Speaks

Congratulations, everyone. And thanks again, Kip! 🙂

 

It only seemed fitting that I throw this in:

Dear Nostalgia,

Why must you torment me so? You hit me when I, quite frankly, have no time for you, and I always cave- you know I do. You are the bittersweet longing that can never be satisfied, no matter how deep I bury my nose in your depths.

I don’t want to live in the past, even in my happy version of it. It’s far too beautiful and perfect to be real, and I know I’m just fooling myself. Memory is a skilled trickster and has many minions.
Of course, you have plenty of help besides your cousin- so many dangerous triggers quite apart from childhood anecdotes that are brought up during conversation.

Usually, when I revisit old favourite TV shows, songs, scents, and whatnot, I find myself still enamoured by them, notwithstanding obvious bias. Sometimes, I’m overwhelmed by a sense of despair and I wonder…Why did I expose myself to such things at such a crucial time in my life?

But, let’s face it, I barely had a chance. As a kid, everything in the world is in a race to get to you first, to win the privilege of shaping you, your personality, and your life. To claim the right to dictate your future likes and dislikes forevermore, even indirectly.

For such reasons, I obviously can’t despise you without despising who and what I am today, and contrary to what some people might believe, I have a healthy ego. Self-deprecation is just too fun to sacrifice is all. I know, I’m an expert at deviation. I blame the somewhat forced eclecticism I gained as a child.

Sincerely,                                                                                                                         Always Anna

“Nostalgia was better in the old days.”- a T-shirt

The Witch’s Trial

http://ermiliablog.wordpress.com/2012/09/16/__picture-it-write-41/

It had been created especially for her when she had come of the age to actively enter the world of magic. The years had not changed it one bit. An ever pristine mirror that held truths and power she had defiantly dared to dream of, it was the bridge and barrier to the apex of her strength.

She had been a Practicing Witch for over 6 years now and she knew the day had arrived; she would be tested as a witch and a person, to be sure power was not falling into the wrong hands.

She could allow no one in her company while she faced this ancient rite of passage.  Anything else could cause the spell to go awry. If she failed, she would not be remembered. That was one of the merciful magics of the mirror- no one in her Circle would have to be heartbroken or miss her.

She held it up before her, feeling her pulse make erratic jumps. The cold metallic frame lent steadiness to her fingers. Suddenly, she felt something seize her mind. Questions and thoughts were eerily voiced by the mirror. She responded, quick and honest. There was no jarring red light which she had been told to expect in the event of an unsatisfying answer. No, she was passing with a beautiful monochrome of colours.

She twisted her hands tighter around the edges, staring deeper into its preternatural reflections with every passing second. Memories of her ancestors began to flit across the glass and into her soul. In a matter of minutes she knew how to tame a Chimaera, how to teleport back and forth from far ends of the universe, and how it felt to carry the weight of the world in the event of an impending Apocalypse. In that long, drawn out instant, she Knew.

Power surged into her fingertips as she struggled to hold onto the mirror, feeling the fire that burned so many sisters who came before her. She knew the second she released it, the transfer would cease, and she could never hope to gain more from its swirling depths. Despite the pain, she gripped it closer; she could feel the victorious end creeping not too far away.

 

Signed,

The Invisible Invigilator

Lovely Weather for Ducks

Dear Wade,

How are your swimming lessons going? I just know you’ll work through your fears eventually. Ooh, wait till you hear about the little adventure Daisy and I had yesterday! It involves a bit of wandering far away from The Lake, so I hope you understand that you’re sworn to secrecy.

*waddle* *waddle* *hop* *skip* *jump* *waddle* *waddle*

It was a mopey week and the two of us were tired of being sitting ducks. And, you know those fading gray things that seem to fly straight up into the sky? I was really curious if one could take Daisy and I with it, so we went in search of them. It took a lot of waddling, but we made it to the place it comes from. It was really odd. There were enormous, square, mostly white rocks everywhere. They looked almost exactly the same and each one was surrounded by a wall.

Once we hopped over it, we found plants in patterns! Can you believe it? I bet you didn’t think they were that clever either, did you? And to think we can barely get ourselves in a row without a frenzy of quacks.

“What do you know? They’ve tricked us all along. Smart, stealthy, silent leafy things. And organised, to boot.”

Just as we were getting into the groove of our walk on the wild side and heading towards the stone from which the mysterious gray bird rises, we ran into a human. You probably think I’m exaggerating to the point of lying, but if it looks like a human(tall and two-legged) and talks like a human(with a flat stone pressed against their ear)…..you know how the saying goes.

Daisy: “Donnie, do you think….?”
Donald: “Yep, I think we found ourselves a real, live human.”
Daisy: “Do you think this is where they live? I hope it doesn’t mind us visiting. Maybe we should try to explain that we won’t eat anything on their land.”
*Crack* *Crack*
Donald: “Or we could RUN!”

It turned to face us and we watched it pick up a long black thing from nearby and point it at the sky. There were two loud, sudden sounds and we didn’t wait to find out what it was before scampering off. What were us brave spirits doing running away? I guess, in that moment, we both decided we’d like to live to quack another day.

We came back just in time to avoid getting caught by Mr. Lame Duck himself, Webbed. He noticed our panting though, and nothing stopped him from bursting our exciting bubble. “You two seem to take to trouble quicker than you do water. What do you suppose that says about you?” he gruffed, daring us to challenge his authority. We ducked away meekly, and ran for cover from bothersome grown-ducks.

He won’t be Team Head for much longer, hopefully! If I could cross my feet for that to happen, I would. Besides, does he even know the things some of the others do in the water? He’d be wearing a “What-the-duck!” expression instead of a smirk. It’s not my fault I don’t want to spend all day in there. I’m sensitive. Water off my back, my ass! Well, you know what I mean.

Anyway, hope you’re having a nice week, Wade. Will see you at the next Easter gathering.

Sincerely,

Donald

 

A New Mask

http://ermiliablog.wordpress.com/2012/09/02/picture-it-write-3/

In his case, the step off the ledge was a bullet, soon to be embedded in his brain. Torn between wanting to live this life and leave it, he knew that whichever side he chose, the other side would lurk.

Day and night, he wore a mask of light, although the darkness was as much a part of him as the other. The shadows that played in the dark sometimes too closely resembled the rays of light, until he was left not knowing which were his reasons to stay.

To shed the mask, he searched for a way. But, was forced to explain himself at every turn- the whys and hows of his behaviour. Though he hurt no one, no one but himself.

He hesitantly put away the trigger and summoned his demons. They stared him in the face as he gave them a good hard look. They weren’t a danger to him as long as he watched them, he realised. And he knew there was only one way they would never leave his sight. After a long thought, he decided they would make up his new mask.

They would be his shield and his strength. There would be no more expectation of light, and if it did sneak in, he would enjoy it. But, for now he’d enjoy the dark. It meant something different to him than to others, he finally admitted.

After that, he never saw another day. Only the night. And something about it just felt right.

 

Signed,

A Fellow Goth