snazzy: panda cake; cures depression (Default)
So, the last time I used DW was in 2011, a solid five years ago. To be honest, I forgot I even had a Dreamwidth account; but I made a last-minute decision about GYWO, and my old livejournal is even more embarrassing to admit to, so here I am. Hello!

I don't know how active I'll keep this account, aside from maybe trying to interact in the comment sections-- although this is the only account I have where none of my IRL friends are connected, so I may dip back into public journaling. If I'm clever and good, I'll put my writing here instead of letting it moulder in endless drafts.

But, perhaps an introduction is in order nonetheless.
Ellen; halfdeadfriedrice on tumblr; declairing on twitter; umbrella on ao3 (branding what personal branding)
Current fandoms: The Raven Cycle, Hamilton, Books (I love to yell about books), Captive Prince
Past fandoms: SGA, Inception, Teen Wolf, WTNV, so much dumb anime
I'm most active fannishly on tumblr and most mundanely/with book rants on twitter.

It's a new year! 2015 was quite a world of peaks and over dramatic dips, and I can only predict 2016 will be more of the same in the series of nonsense, navigating human relationships. But I think 2016 could also be a year where I start taking some of my own productive interests seriously; I'm not a great writer, but I won't get any better unless I actually do some writing.

One thing I really like about Past Ellen's Journaling Ideas was to end on a poem (and also, there was a thing about being less afraid about taking up space. It's telling that I said that on a journal that no one knew about, in mini-script, but I've been working on it for five years and I'll keep doing my best). Coincidentally, this poem was my emotional writing prompt for today's words.


Richard Siken
War of the Foxes (iii)

Let me tell you a story about war:

The fisherman's son serves drinks to sailors. He stands behind the bar. He listens closely for news of his brother. The sailors are thirsty. They drink rum. A new ship docks, the Starlight Transport. These sailors have tattoos and blue tongues. 'Blueberries,' says one of the sailors before being asked. Sailors have good stories. 'Tell me a story,' says the fisherman's son.

'There is nothing interesting about the sea. The water is flat, flat and calm, it seems a sheet of glass. You look at it, the more you look at it the more you feel, you feel like you are looking into your own head, which is a stranger's head, empty. We listen to the sound with our equipment. I have learned to understand this sound. When you look there is nothing, with the equipment there is a sound. We sit in rows and listen down the tunnels for the song. The song has red words in it. We write them down on sheets of paper and pass them along. Sometimes there is noise and sometimes song and often there is silence, the long tunnel, the sea like glass-'

'You are a translator,' says the fisherman's son.

'Yes,' says the sailor.

'And the sound is the voice of the enemy.'

'Yes, yes it is.'

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January 2016

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