Write faster! *whip*
azphar
Yes master!!! Haven't written in a while. The small voice inside me that demands expression won't stop poking the inside of my head with sharp objects until I obey. So. Spent today with @Sharaith, it was mega fun, we studied and goggled over Twitter for hours on end. Good times. We're working on a fail proof formula for massive Twitter l337ness which will be published after we've milked it to our own advantage. (Teaser: naked pictures of celebrities. Have em).

Another story idea, same vein as the last:

Victorian AU, height of British colonialism, only all sorts of gooky supernatural elements are in the mix. Britania's dominance is threatened only by the Transylvanian Empire which is gaining increasing power since it's vampiric elite have begun sharing the deathless gift with the masses. A small team of agents of the Crown, League of Ex. Gentlemen style, are sent into the heart of Africa on a top-secret mission: to recover a certain oil container long thought lost, which gives it's owner access to a vast power from an eldritch plane. Needless to say the path is dangerous (fraught with sphinxes and what not) and the Transylvanians are having none of our plucky English heroes and heroines, but want all the power in their own cold hands.

That's enough for today. Sleeep...

Things I've learned this exam period
azphar

Too much OOP turns the brain to soup.

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.


Green Blood
azphar

Banks and cell phone companies are the vampires of our age. They draw us in with siren songs and we beg them to suck us dry. Well not anymore, fiends. I'm keeping my money in a paper bag under the fireplace and making all my calls through a cup with a piece of string on the end. I'm free.

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.


La la la la la, la la la
azphar
 Well I finally set up the ancient keyboard that's been sitting forlorn in my parent's basement in my apartment.
I haven't played since the end of high school, and I was never that good to begin with, but there's something fascinating about touching those
little plastic keys and hearing music pour out.
Of course my repertoire is pretty much limited to stunted versions of Fur Elise and a Bach Prelude, but anything is better than Data Structures!!!

My Grandfather's Griffin
azphar
{Outline}

Young man, suffering through law school, finds a faded picture in his attic of is grandfather standing over the body of a sphinx with a spear in his hand.
On the back of the photo is written: Kalaharo Valley, 1942
The man asks his mother about it, she tells him that her father worked for British Intelligence and was constantly being sent off to strange parts of the world. When he shows her the photograph she tells him that that was the journey his grandfather had never returned from. Everyone had assumed he had been killed by Germans. She had never seen the picture before.
The man decided to drop out of law school and go to Africa to find the location the picture was taken and find out what happened to his grandfather.
He arrives in Cairo and hires a plucky female guide to take him to where the photo was taken. She refuses at first, but when he offers lots of money she reluctantly agrees but makes him buy a lot of expensive equipment.
They set out on the journey.
They are attacked by bandits in the desert, but manage to fight them off but not before losing a lot of valuable equipment and having their gas tank ruptured, leaving them stranded. 
They go on on foot, since the way back is even longer and they hope to find a small village, road, or military outpost (even though the guide knows there aren't any). Also they dont want to run into the bandits again, who returned in the direction that the two came from.
They travel on. Eventually they reach a huge mountain range. In the foothills they encounter a family living around a small oasis. They show the picture to the grandfather of the family who remembers meeting the man's grandfather and sketches them a map of how to reach the site the photo was taken. The guide wants to go back - the family has a radio they can use to call for help - but the man wants to go on. After a while she is convinced and agrees to go on with him.
They travel through an ancient tunnel that the father of the family shows them, leading underneath the mountains, and emerge in a valley geographically situated so as to be invisible to overflying aircraft despite its relatively large size.  They find the bones of the sphinx, preserved by the dry air, just as in the picture. They stay until sunset and are about to go back when they see a live sphinx come out from one of the many caves. They watch as it spreads it's wings and sings mournfully by the bones of the dead sphinx. They leave before it sees them.
They make it back to Cairo safely and the man returns home. He doesn't return to law school. Instead he goes to work for National Geographic.

The man's name - Carter. The guide - Ayana.
{/ Outline)

Wake from the Dream
azphar
 Writing is like cooking...if you have all the ingredients and the tools and you're in the mood then it's a breeze. Otherwise you have to go to the store...right after you see what's on Boing Boing...and check you're email one more time...and maybe you'll just order take out...

It feels like the last semester has been this long dream that I'm only now starting to wake up from. I need to remember to keep studying in proportion. It's important. But not more important than my emotional well being!!! Thats the ticket. If I keep saying that enough times I'll believe it! Maybe.

The writing gland in my brain is tired now. Two paragraphs is a major workout after all the time I've let it atrophy. But I vow to get it back in shape!!!

Don't Not Sleep and Write
azphar
 As a slogan it needs some work. But that's how I feel! How am I supposed to write when I keep slipping into dream mode where I'm lying on a beach in Thailand having Margaritas poured down my back. Mmmm Margaritas. No. Snap back! Writing. Yes. Does complaining about writing being hard count as writing? Some say yes. Others say maybe. Others go see what's in the fridge. But not me! I stand fast. I'll write a story about a girl and her mother travelling on a space ship when an octopus like alien monster tries to break into their ship and eat them!!!! It'll be thrilling. I'm far too tired to try and write it now, of course. Tomorrow. I'll just let it stew in my head for now. Give it a few hours of fermentation before I spew it out onto the screen. I'm thinking at the end they should fry the alien monster and have him with rice. Mmmm rice. I'm hungry. What? Had dinner an hour ago? Pish posh. That's neither here nor there. Hehe. British sayings are so droll. Okay that's enough free associating for one evening. To bed. Right after I see what's on Fbook. And Twitter. And Boing Boing. And the fridge.

Semester Break. Some say it exists.
azphar
 Others - read me - know that it's a legend. At least for the students of HU. As if it wasn't enough trying to cram four massive courses into fourteen short weeks, now it starts all over again after a pathetic two days off. If I survive I should get a medal.

Birthday!!!!
azphar
 Awesomest day :)

Deep in the exam sea
azphar
That's where I am right now...two down, two more to go. Assuming I don't have to take any moed Bs (higher powers, make it so!). Up today is Applied Math. Integrals, derivatives, and taylor series...my old friends...I didn't really miss you very much. But you're back! Come in...have some tea...I think there are a few cookies that fell behind the couch last week...sigh.

Must be strong!!! Must...study...

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