THE NINE CHOIRS OF HEAVEN. An info-graphic for my editorial class and god am I thankful it’s done. Way too much went into this than what I had time for, but hey… I actually kind of like it?
Now excuse me, I must return to my fashion major lifestyle and go sew a coat u_u
EDIT: Re-uploaded with easier viewing!
Wich 1 wud u be??
Rather than send individual asks, I’m tossing this question out to anyone looking to play. The question has two parts, and you may interpret it however you like…
Is your writing distinctive? If so, then what elements make it distinctive?
I like to think my writing is distinctive. Doesn’t everyone’s writing sound distinctive to them personally? I have had people tell me “I can tell you wrote this.” and I think I can pick out the elements that say ‘me’ though. Very subtle humor, sometimes not so subtle, and my narration tends to be sarcastic or at the least tongue in cheek.
So I nearly had a heart attack today. I went to the bathroom and decided not to take Watson with me. Most of the times he rides along on my head because if I leave the room and he can’t see me, he starts shrieking. Separation anxiety bird. Anyway I was in there and he was on my desk, shrieking and calling “c’mere!!” at me so I said “You has wings, YOU c’mere!” because he’s done it before. He jumps off the desk and waddles out of my room, down the hall and into the toilet. But this time he took a running leap and went a’flap-flappin’ across my room. I don’t know if it was the flapping noise or the chirping that attracted my cat. I don’t leave them alone together and I didn’t think he was even in the room. But I saw him come SHOOTING out from under the bed and charge the bird.
And of course I’m at the stage of business that I cannot come leaping after him so all I could do was sit there and scream, sure I was about to watch my bird die. Next thing I know I hear this CRASHING sound coming from my roommate’s room as she She-Hulk’s her way down the hall to save the baby. The cat was so startled by the noise that he skidded to a halt mid-pounce and crashed into the fold he made in mid-air and fell to the ground with an “oh shit” look on his face. She scooped Watson up and I’m sitting in the bathroom trying not to start sobbing. My poor bird.
Poor roommate too, she bruised her arm good. I got her ice cream.
It got better.
This is precious
I was trying to tell Kayelef that looking this ruggedly handsome wasn’t really an example of privilege because it’s actually really hard to have to be pulling this off constantly and I can’t try less hyper masculine looks.
But in the middle of my explanation she said she had to go and she just walked away.
See? It ain’t easy.
The testosterone fumes were overwhelming her.
So, I’m a little more than an hour out from my first law final and I’m a little nervous so, naturally, I’m going to think about random stuff.
Next semester I have the opportunity to take fencing lessons or learn how to play the bagpipes. I don’t really have time for both so I must choose one. Which should I do?
While fencing is fun, you should learn the bagpipes. Fencing is the less useful of the two skills.
I disagree. I use my fencing skills all the time. My rapier is very useful for getting the socks out from under the couch and those pesky lightbulb boxes off the top shelf without having to get a ladder and turning off lights when you don’t feel like getting out of your chair. Def. fencing.
Maya Angelou (via leslieseuffert)
People may forget what you say but in this day and age there is always some determined bastard who will go through your tumblr/twitter/livejournal and find it and reblog it when you least expect it.