I am weird. Yes, that about covers it.
Why are you still reading this?
I suppose you want more than what I've said. Well alright then.
I suppose you could call me a HUGE geek because I love computers and technology. To tell you the truth, I am just completely obsessed with the both of them. I enjoy inventing and creating new things and I love to express myself through drawings, literature and the games I create. I am the type of person who believes video games are actually a form of art and not just a stupid little thing people do to pass the time.
I love different cultures, especially the Japanese and their language. I mean, I also have a fascination in Ancient Greek Mythology, but it's mostly just Japanese culture that I'm interested in. One of the largest parts of Japan's culture is their graphic novels (Manga) and animated shows (Anime). When the art and story line is good in an Anime, it can just envelop you and send you to another world. I actually believe, when done right, it's a true form of art. I also have taken it upon myself to attempt to learn the Japanese language.
I love music. It can make anything better. In fact it is one of the things I look for in a good Anime, movie, or video game. I listen to it for hours; music really sets my emotions into a flare. I even find that I tend to create best while listening to music.
I always like to chat and some people say I give good advice, so I don't mind helping you out if you have a problem. I find people quite interesting. I love talking to everyone and learning new things from them as I do so, which I find very odd because I'm actually pretty shy.
A couple more of my interests are poetry and reading. I'm not a huge poetry buff, but I enjoy reading and writing it on occassion. A book is nothing short of a portal to a completely different world. Sometimes it delves into the depths of a person's mind.
Last but not least, I've always wanted to learn how to play the violin, so if anyone knows how and wants to teach me, I'm up for it.
Poems
Edgar Allen Poe's The Raven
Once upon a midnight dreary,
while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping,
suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping,
rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor,"
I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door-
Only this, and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember
wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;- vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow- sorrow for the lost Lenore-
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door-
Some late visitor entreating entrance
at my chamber door;-
This it is, and nothing more."
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping,
tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"-
here I opened wide the door;-
Darkness there, and
nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering,
long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!"
This I whispered, and an echo
murmured back the word, "Lenore!"-
Merely this, and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all
my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping
somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is
something at my window lattice:
Let me see, then, what thereat is,
and this mystery explore-
Let my heart be still a moment and
this mystery explore;-
'Tis the wind and nothing more."
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and
flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he;
not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady,
perched above my chamber door-
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door-
Perched, and sat, and
nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad
fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
"Though thy crest be shorn and
shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no
craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient raven
wandering from the Nightly shore-
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the
Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the
Raven, "Nevermore."
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning- little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blest with seeing bird
above his chamber door-
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name
as "Nevermore."
But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that
one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered-
Till I scarcely more than
muttered, "other friends have flown
before-
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore-
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never- nevermore'."
But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and
door;
Then upon the velvet sinking,
I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore-
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly,
gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in
croaking "Nevermore."
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now
burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah,
nevermore!
Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee- by these angels he
hath sent thee
Respite- respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!- prophet still, if bird or
devil!-
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted-
On this home by horror haunted- tell me truly, I implore-
Is there- is there balm in Gilead?- tell me- tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the
Raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil- prophet still, if bird or
devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us-
by that God we both adore-
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if
, within the distant Aidenn,v It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend," I shrieked,
upstarting-
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my
door!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the
floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted- nevermorev!
Anouther poem by me