Stephanie (mirroredsakura) wrote,

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*waves random sheet of paper*

Yes, well. I found this. And... I rather like it. It's my little piece of bullshit that I did for my monologue for Writer's Craft. Basically it's me, entirely re-wording the first three pages of Nabokov's Speak, Memory which I didn't even bother to read. I don't even know what I got on it. Ah well...

Honestly speaking, I probably would have read it thoroughly, just as I would have read Lolita more thoroughly, and more than likely would've enjoyed both more if I weren't doing an assignment on it. *shrug* Perhaps once the stigma of having Wahba for a teacher fades... (that and my pathetic WC grade... *wince*)

Anyway, this is another useless post of meaningless drivel. Feel free to stop now. But... Steph is going to post her monologue. Tee hee. Yes, I'm a dork. ^_^

I see my life, and I find it to be nothing more than an impossible ray of light between the two enclosing eternities that is the darkness. Darkness hovers before me, tangible with the knowledge that I will be engulfed by it at the end of life's struggle. Darkness lies behind me, shadowing the trail I have tread, ever reminding me that once the world existed without my presence, that prenatal abyss.

It is with children of the first youth who see this, to be able to see fore and aft, and to know of first things and last. A full-grown man sees only the continuity of his existence, to ignore the encroaching dark from both sides of time. This is only unless that man is forced to see it through the eyes of one who sees only what some venerable and rigid religion allows him to se, and to make him accept the two black voids.

Against this I rebel. The imagination; that which the immortal and the immature make a supreme delight of, is limited by such ways. For one to enjoy the life he is given, one cannot enjoy it to its fullest extent. And so I have attempted to see past these two walls of darkness, separating me from timelessness. And yet I have found throuhg all my mental expeditions through time which I have never existed, that the shape of time itself is that of a sphere, which no percievable exit for all my troubles.

And so now I see that time, which at first seemed so boundless at first blush, is only a prison to hold me, and a line to rein my imagination in.

Anyway... I have also written a little ficlet. It should've been more. Chapters long. But things never work out the way I plan. So... I'm going to post that. After my bath.

...This is under the condition that I am not ordered downstairs to have more calculus shoved down my throat rendering me unable to post.

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