Searching for my Happily Ever After.

Got up at about 10 or 11 am. I started off the day with ambitions to do some life drawings, a study of hands, then homework. In reality, I went downstairs, grabbed a creme caramel, started doing an observational sketch and gave up. Dad was clearing the games room.

I suddenly remembered that he has the Sandman series, Neil Gaiman (I put that in there so I don't get yelled at/sued, hehehe) so I put my sketches aside and ran upstairs to go look for them. Getting in Dad's way and recieving a telling off, I retrieved the graphical novels and settled down on the nice quiet sofa dowstairs. No one was down there as I started reading. The books are very well put together, gruesome, with a little bit of dark humour, and with a very sexy sandman. It's just me, I think, but that sandman is very hot. He's skinny, wears a long flowing black cloak, is very pale, with black/blue hair and dark hollows with teeny little blue dots in for eyes. And he is very sexy. Dunno, I just have a thing for weird guys. I mean, I think Kurt is sexy! Oh, and of course, Captain Jack Sparrow ^_^

I read from twelve midday until four pm, with frequent and annoying interruptions. Oh, one more thing about the Sandman, while the characters Cain and Able are very creepy, there's one bit which just touched me. One second, I shall fetch the book. Okay, got it. Right. You all know the story of Cain and Able, the story of the first murder. Well, this particular bit of the story is set in the Dreamscape, the place of dreams where anything can happen. The Sandman is lord over this place, and is as much part of it as it is part of him. He is the Prince of Stories. Well, Cain and Able are two beings who reside in the Dreamscape. They have not birth dates, for they were never born. Able is a stuttering man, who is very nervous but is essentially good, whilst Cain is impatient with his snivelling, stuttering brother, and kills him constantly. Able dies, but recovers again, only to be killed again by his much loved brother. For some reason Able loves his brother despite what he does to him. Okay, the story. Able has an egg, which hatches. A gargoyle (a very cute chocobo-like one) emerges from the egg.

"Hurrm. I think I'll call him... Irving."

Cain: "IRVING?? You... can't call it Irving. Names for gargoyles always begin with a "G"." The picture shows Cain looking angry. "Like Gazpacho -- or Gormagon -- or Gladstone -- or Ganemede -- or -- or.. pfah!"

Able: "B-b-but I, uh, like Irving!" He goes off into stuttering, the next picture shows blood splattering onto the walls.

Now the touching bit.

The "narrator": Abel has been dead for a couple of hours now. But he was starting to feel better. He feels splintered vertebrae grind as he climbs. Even the pain feels better than the cold of death. It's a long way back up.

It shows his corps making his way up to the house. Then it shows him sitting on the steps, nearly fully alive now.

Able: "Uhh... I'll, um, tell you a story, Goldie." He has Irving on his lap. " I'm, ah, calling you Goldie, after a f-friend of mine who went away. But I'll think of you as Irving really. In my heart. It's a secret story. It's a story of two brothers. And they, uh... they loved each other very much. And they were always nice to each other. Nice and kind and b-brotherly." It shows him looking at Irving, with one eye rotting and bleeding. "And the elder broter would never hurt the younger brother. Never. And they lived together in the same house." A drop of blood, or is it a tear? falls. "And they were... Hnh. Uhah. Th-they were, uh, v-very happy. I'm sorry. I wasn't -- I'm n-not crying. I'm really not crying." He wipes his bleeding/weeping eye while Irving looks at him. "It's only blood, little brother. Only blood." The scene shifts away from them.

It is so very sad.

I haven't been eating much lately. I just haven't had an appetite. I only had a creme caramel, three pancakes, and a quarter of a pizza today. I must eat more, even if I don't really want to.

If only I hadn't have told people about this site, then we wouldn't have this "secret network of information" as Kat puts it. I don't like it. This isn't what I joined for, I joined to write what I want, and let others know about my life, but I cannot write what I want because I may hurt my friends' feelings.

This evening we all sat down to watch "Ringu", the original Japanese Ring. The beginning is very similar to the Hollywood one, but as the plot develops it deviates. I think the original is better because it explains it more, plus I can learn bits of Japanese along with the horror. :D I like horror movies. The ending was very scary but I knew what was coming. It explained itself more than the Hollywood one, too. And that NOISE!! Yeeeerrrraaaghhzh!

*shudder*

Endings, endings, endings. I have started to write stories many a time but I always go on for too long. I cannot get a proper ending. So there are half formed stories strewn all over the place. I once read a little short story, about this guy who is sitting writing away, while behind him little people come out of his notepads. They are his half formed characters. They come up behind him, hit him over the head with a dictionary, and yell at him to sit down and finish a story for once. So, with a little sense knocked into him, he sets down and actually finishes a story. Cute. I think I need little people to come hit some dictionary-like sense into my head.

Maman and I are still getting into stupid little arguments. We just had an argument about the Excorcist. She says a load of people died during the making because of satanistic influences, and I told her that it was probably just an urban myth. She says that watching it will open pathways for the spirits and I say it was just a movie with bad special effects. She doesn't understand me, and I don't understand her. I hope we sort out our differences once and for all or I shall go mad.

Madness. My only means of relaxation. Crazy Sean. Madness is fun, though. Being random is even more fun.

Apparantly. According to me, anyway.

I am tired now, and I must go to bed and drift into golden slumbers. *sings* Ohhh, love is old love is new. Ohhhh, love is old love is you.

Aren't the Beatles great?!

Kimberley xxxxxx

Sexy sandman, visit me tonight, send me to your dreamscape.

*grins*