TL;DR: I need a penname for actual publishing. I love my last name and all, but it's just too hard to spell and pronounce for most people.
Here's what I came up with:
- Katelyn Leigh (first name and middle)
- Katelyn Treekeeper (first name and a 'translation' last name)
- Katelyn Treekeep (same as above, just sounds cool)
- Katelyn Draz (first name and shortening of penname)
My mom of all people got this catalog and we've been drooling over it. UGH I WANT.
Anyone eat these as a kid? We called them "yellow clover" and chewed on the sour stalks like they were candy.
I looked them up today. They are called, according to wiki: Oxalis pes-caprae; Bermuda buttercup, African wood-sorrel, Bermuda sorrel, Buttercup oxalis, Cape sorrel, English weed, Goat's-foot, Sourgrass, Soursob, Soursop
While they are edible in small quantities, what makes them sour, oxalic acid, is actually toxic.
WHY WAS I EATING THIS STUFF.
I got in at three am last night. BECAUSE I JUST SAW BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN IN L.A.!
He's is my all time favorite music artist, ALL TIME FAVORITE I SAY, and this is my first time ever seeing him onstage.
And it was with my dad and brother. My dad is the one who got me hooked, since I've been singing "Lucky Town" since I was four.
He didn't play ANY songs off the Magic album, and my favorite track off of Working on a Dream, Queen of the Supermarket, wasn't played either. Or my favorite song Mary's Place. That was a little off putting...
BUT TOM FUCKING MORELLO WAS THERE.
With his guitar, he and Springsteen sang The Ghost of Tom Joad. It was FREAKING AWESOME. NAGH!
I got a shot glass for my collection and a shirt. I'm wearing the shirt. I love this fucking shirt. SHIIIRRTTTTT
I don't really know how it started, but it ended up a group of me and some people going to a pig version of Planet of the Apes, set in 40,000 AD. We had just came from 947 BC or something. It was ridiculous. There was a herd of prehistoric creatures running by, but the mammalian kind, not dinosaurs.
We were attempting to infiltrate the king's lair in order to return home. It was utterly ridculous. There was a lot of stuff that I just can't remember anymore, and I wished I did, because it was epically well done. I remember during the fight scene with the king, everyone suddenly changed into what they "should" have evolved into according to what they were. A druid thingie person suddenly turned into a manifestation of lightning and water. It was weird. Very weird. France was involved.
Yeh, I'm still half awake.
I write scripts for a video game developer.
Right now, the project is an American-made online dating sim. I'm one of the writers, and chiefly will do the m/m pairings, since the dating sim will be not hetero-exclusive. I'm currently helping create the characters, since the engine is done, they just need to actually make the storyline now.
I'm getting paid to write smut.
...HOW FUCKING AWESOME IS THAT?!?!?!?!?!
Do you guys know what this is? DO YOU GUYS KNOW WHAT THIS IS?!
THAT, ladies (and...possibly gentlemen?) IS THE FIRST FIFTEEN CHAPTERS OF C&C, 30 PAGES OF 6 POINT SIZED FONT, HIGHLIGHTED AND MARKED UP.
YOU READ THAT RIGHT. CHARMS AND CURSES.
I'm going back, printing out all the chapters (five at a time), highlighting any important bits and poor bits, and then I'll compile everything in this swankified journal rachelmorph got me for Christmas. From there, I have some semblance of what I was actually going to do outlined in my head, and therefore be able to write the FINAL CHAPTERS OF C&C.
.....THEN START ALL THE FUCK OVER
Seriously, I don't know why you people like it so much. Sure, the characters are fun and I have some semblance of plot admist the fluff. I WANT TO SLASH AND HACK THE TWISTED
All I see is one reference after another, whether it be pop culture or some bizarro-facts I was learning in school at the time, and wanting to flex my academic muscles for you all to gaga over my brain goop. GOD I WAS TERRIBLE. Maybe I should pick up NAWTS or GWAB up, since I can't reference anything in there. UGH. DID ANYONE ELSE NOTICE I SWITCHED FROM
My brain hurts. But, I started writing this nearly four years ago. RAGGLEFRAGGLEGRUMBLEMUMBLE~ I want to start over NAWTS. I loved that world so much....but I know it needs to be hack'n'slashed. I mean....Jiminy Crickets, my grasp of first aid back then makes me CRINGE.
Breathe deep the gathering gloom
Watchlights fade from every room
Bedsitter people look back and lament
Another days useless energies spent
Empassioned lovers wrestle as one
Lonely man cries for love and has none
New mother picks up and settles her son
Senior citizens wish they were young
Cold hearted orb that rules the night
Removes the colors from our sight
Red is gray and yellow white
But we decide which is right
And which is an illusion
- The Moody Blues
The Pendragons play this right before they come on stage.
`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
"And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
He chortled in his joy.
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Then there's a pair of us!
Dont tell! they'd banish us-you know!
How dreary-to be-Somebody!
How public-like a Frog-
To tell your name-the livelong June
To an admiring Bog!
Emily Dickinson "The Bloath" In the undergrowth There dwells the Bloath Who feeds upon poets and tea. Luckily I know this about him, While he knows almost nothing of me.
If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar,
a hoper, a pray-er, a magic-bean-buyer.
If you're a pretender, come sit by my fire,
for we have some flax-golden tales to spin.
GO and catch a falling star,
Get with child a mandrake root,
Tell me where all past years are,
Or who cleft the devil's foot,
Teach me to hear mermaids singing,
Or to keep off envy's stinging,
Serves to advance an honest mind.
If thou be'st born to strange sights,
Things invisible to see,
Ride ten thousand days and nights,
Till age snow white hairs on thee,
Thou, when thou return'st, wilt tell me,
All strange wonders that befell thee,
Lives a woman true and fair.
If thou find'st one, let me know,
Such a pilgrimage were sweet;
Yet do not, I would not go,
Though at next door we might meet,
Though she were true, when you met her,
And last, till you write your letter,
False, ere I come, to two, or three.