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Tuesday, January 15th, 2008
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6:04 am - I'm going to Italy!!
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I'm going to Italy this summer to study art history!!!! We'll be living in Florence for half the time and then spending about five days each in Venice and Rome! We also have a couple of "free" weekends too where we can go wherever we want to go in Italy!!!
ACCCCCCCCCCCK! I'm so excited!!!!!!
I'm going to be going with my good friend and we'll room together once we're there. SO EXCITED!!!!!!!
current mood:  ecstatic
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| Sunday, October 21st, 2007
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12:43 am
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Wrote a totally random bit of.... um. "criping" (That's crappy writing for you guys, lol) the other day and figured I'd post it here. :)
"Untitled" (Though, I suppose it may be appropriate to title it "Mad Tomatoes") Once upon a time, a young girl name Fancy went to the market to fetch a tomato for dinner. Don't ask me why Fancy chose a tomato from all other available dinner items since I think the things are nasty, but there you go. Fancy wanted a tomato, so Fancy walked the four and a half blocks to WalMart to buy herself one.
In the store she came across an old man in tattered, stained clothing trying to sell someone the dirtiest, mangiest boot dear sweet Fancy had ever seen. It was peeling and cracked, and a myriad of crusty yellows and browns. Fancy looked into the rheumy eyes of the old man and felt a flicker in her sugar-spun heart. A melting, if you will. So instead of buying her tomato, as she had planned, Fancy did something dippy.
She bought the grungy footwear and held it in reverent hands as she exited WalMart and began her long trek home. Fancy had gone into WalMart for a tomato and she came out with a trashy boot instead. (I can't say that I'm surprised, Fancy's sort of a dumbass.)
When she returned to her room with it's pale pink walls and floral lace curtains, Fancy set the boot on her pristine windowpane ledge and gazed upon it with delight. She had made a difference in that old man's life, after all! A warm, fuzzy feeling of contentment stretched from her gooey marshmallow heart out to the rest of her.
Congrats, Fancy. You've really done good. And hopefully, as you brush your long hair and slip under your bubble-gum pink comforter, you can imagine those hunger pains away by thinking of your kind deed.
Fancy did try. She tried not to think of how she had spent all of her money on a boot that she couldn't do anything with. She tossed and turned and began rethinking her whole outlook on the situation.
By the time three am rolled around, Fancy wasn't so much a marshmallow as she was a flaming comet of hunger and bitchiness... (Well, maybe a marshmallow if it's one being burned black and shriveled in the fire until there's nothing left but the smoking stick.) Fancy shoved on her mary-janes and her brother's Metallica hoodie and marched the four and a half blocks to WalMart.
The old man was there, and today he was selling matchbooks that had half of the matches ripped out. Fancy walked up to him and flung the boot at his dirty, poorly groomed head and screamed about trechary, a boot, and how she wanted her tomato.
The old man, who wasn't exactly firing on all cylinders either, began to pelt her with matchbooks while he screamed about conspiracy, do-gooders, and his magic boot.
The WalMart store manager, Ken, walked in from a smoke-break to find Fancy and Old Guy having a scream session about shit that sounded.... Well, kinda crazy. So Ken did what anyone would have done. He called the cops.
Fancy and Old Guy were hauled out of WalMart and the good people got back to doing what they do best.... Shopping.
And how am I involved in all this, you wonder? Well, I'm just the guy unfortunate enough to have to listen to all this crap. But that's what happens when they handcuff you to the bench in the local jail.
Fancy's going home, she's one of those butter-wouldn't-melt-in-my-mouth types so she probably got off on a warning. And maybe it's none of my business but I've been around a while and I can tell you one thing... Old guy's probably just losing it. No doubt he's been on the streets awhile and it's all just starting to catch up to him. But that chick--Fancy?
Crazy as they come. You can see it in her eyes. I can bet you cold hard cash that she's gonna end up cracking one day and stabbing someone in the eye with a knitting needle or something. Bet you anything.
I mean, come on, four and a half blocks for a freaking tomato? Fancy's crazy as they come, man.
You just wait. I know my crazies.
current mood:  tired
current music: Crappy airconditioner
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| Monday, June 11th, 2007
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4:10 am - Without a Sound...
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“Without a Sound” By Ellie A/N) I don’t own the Labyrinth. Was randomly productive a couple of days ago, finished typing this out earlier and am now posting despite (I’m sure) various errors I’ll beat myself over the head with later. Rough and unruly but here it is! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
current mood: a wee bit sleepy.
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3:58 am - Updates, updates, all around. (And Pinocchio's Speech from Shrek 3)
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I'd hardly call it the most stellar writing I've ever done, but I surprised myself lately with updating "Cradle" and even typing out a one-shot.
It's funny how letting go of fanfic managed to bring me back around. I highly doubt I'll be much more productive with it, but it's been nice writing new Laby chapters/stories. I left "Cradle" at a real WTF? moment though, so before I rest on my laurels (as I am wont to do) I should definitely post at least one more chapter.
Mayhap I shall try my hand at a couple other fandoms before all this drive to write fanfic sizzles out. I'll just have to wait and see, I suppose.
And for kicks and grins:
ELLIE'S FAVORITE PART IN SHREK THE THIRD:
Prince Charming threatens Gingerbread Man until GM is reduced to doing a loopy rendition of "Good Ship Lollipop." Prince Charming realizes that it's not so much GM being a tough nut to crack, as him being such an easy nut that he, kinda, *completely* cracked. Evil plan thwarted, Prince Charming must come up with a NEW ally of Shrek to grill for info. Enter: Pinocchio. Prince Charming leens in with a leer. (Ha! Leens... Leer! I'm good!) PC sees Pinocchio and says: "You! Well, you can't lie. So tell me puppet. Where is Shrek?" Pinocchio spins around, exorcise-style (Aka His head spins around before his body moves with it) And begins the funniest scene in the whole damn movie: "Uh, well, uh I don't know where he's not." PC gets some eyebrow lifting action goin' on while he extrapolates, little does he know, that a screechy-voiced Pinocchio has already begun his twisty twisty game of wordsmanship. "You're telling me you don't know where Shrek is?" Pinocchio fires back with the big guns (Snarkity snark snark!): "It wouldn't be inaccurate to assume that I couldn't exactly not say that it is or isn't almost partially incorrect." It's so beautiful I could cry! PC is beginning to sense where this is going though... Er, maybe not because HIS next remark is: "So you do know where he is!" Pinocchio has his opening, he has his Prince Charming RIGHT where he wants him! And here it comes: The crowning gem of round-the-bend double-double negatives: "On the contrary I'm possibly more or less not definitely rejecting the idea that in no way with any amount of uncertainty that I undeniable do or do not know where he shouldn't probably be. If that indeed wasn't where he isn't. Even if he wasn't there where I knew he was…It could mean that I couldn't possibly not know where he was..." *interject Gingerbread man singing "Good Ship Lollipop" in a he-needs-to-be-institutionalized sugar-dazed way. (But we can forgive him, after all, his entire life passed before his eyes earlier. *snicker*) The Three Pigs have been watching and listening to Pinocchio's brilliant non-nose-growing strategy so closely that they crack under the pressure of good double-talk. Or, er, double-double talk. ;) But hats are off to the bamboozle and razzle dazzle 'em PINOCCHIO, who will go down into the annals of history for contributing (in my humble opinion) the funniest lines in Shrek 3.
current mood: cheerful
current music: Me. Going: Arrrrrgh!
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| Wednesday, May 9th, 2007
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11:34 pm - More Drivel. Er. WRITING. lol (Unedited)
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When by moonlight it falls, then by moonlight it dies; there is no comfort to be had in the deep silken dark...
When by moonlight it falls...
Air is retching from your lungs, the burn of it prodding at your stomach as your feet fly down the darkened streets. The amber-dim streetlights illuminate just enough to make the shadows seem to stretch out with malevolence. Seeking, hunting. Just another prickling on the back of your neck, just another reason to run.
Your ankles wobble, your muscles burn. You won't be able to continue for much longer. And if you can't run, you have no choice but to hide. But where? Where can you hide from the night? The streets are abandoned, the tiny shops lining it dark and empty. No help, no hope for the safety of numbers. You are truly alone.
Your ankle twists and it's enough to make you trip, it's enough to bring you crashing down onto the sharp grit of pavement. And oh, it hurts. But it's behind you and it's coming and if you don't get up, get UP right NOW, then it has you.
Then by moonlight it dies...
You hoist yourself back to your feet even as your abused body tells you how much it hurts, how much it wants to just quit... But you have to move, it's your only chance. There's blood on your tongue--the only dampness in your cottony mouth--and your heart is hammering in your chest and your ankle is sending deep lances of pain up your leg every time your take a step. You can feel it getting closer; it's the gnawing in your stomach, the weight of triumphant fury you can feel pressing in on you from all sides. You're weak and sniveling and too damn slow, because it's gaining fast.
There is no comfort to be had in the deep silken dark...
One chance. One last chance because it's almost here and you're out of time. You throw yourself down, deep in the shadowed niche of a brick building and smother your heaving lips with your hands and your fingers--desperately trying to hold in the noise even as your body fights to draw in air.
Dizziness and vertigo have begun to weave through your drumming skull. You loosen your fingers the tiniest bit even though you know that your desperate gasps are as good as a calling card. As you wait in the darkness for what hunts you, your life does not flash before your eyes. You don't suddenly recall the highlights of your existence, not the pitfalls, not about who will miss you when you're gone.
What you think of is primal. Instinctive. You will fight to preserve the life you possess. You want to live. You will not be snuffed out in this dingy corner, not now, not on this empty night.
There is no time to scream as the Hunter swoops down upon you, no time to fight like the cornered animal you are. There is only the suffocating darkness wrapped around you like a tightening vice. There is only the eerie sibilant tones of a monster as he wraps you in his shroud and carries you away.
current mood: amused
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| Monday, May 7th, 2007
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2:39 am - More Random Drivel, because I'm a terrible procrastinator. :P
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The Little Girl of Forgotten.
Once there was a girl that lived in a small cabin by the lake of Nevermore, on the fringe of Forgotten, just between the Kingdom of Real and the Fiefdom of Asleep.
She didn't know her name because her mother had drunk from the well of Lethe and was Lost.
Sometimes she thought she heard her mother's voice singing the silvery song from the scarred music box that was the little girl's only earthly possession. The strange ebb and flow of airy notes would hover in the air and bat against her ears like the butterflies that skimmed the flower fields.
But the voice would fade away, and the little girl was always alone.
She never ate or drank, nor did she curl upon the woven mat of reeds to sleep. Day after day, night after night, she would sit in silence until the full moon. For it was on the full moon that she would wind her music box and listen to its strange, bittersweet melody.
One night, as the box tinkled its magic song, the little girl looked up to find a shadow leaning in her doorway.
"Hullo."
The shadow didn't answer, stepping farther into the cabin toward the little girl and the box clutched in her hands.
Her voice wavered as the shadow grew menacingly tall, towering over her and blocking the light from the window as a cloud blocks the sun.
"Don't."
The shadow paused.
The little girl held her box with sweating palms as the last note faded into the air.
Her voice piped sweetly through the still night, "Don't leave me."
And on a dark night, deep in the hills of Forgotten, the little girl was no more.
current mood:  Being bad.
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| Thursday, April 26th, 2007
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11:21 pm - Hmmm. Interesting?
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1. You are not alone. You are walking in the woods. With who?
An Ideal. The man I'd WANT to be walking through the woods with. I have no idea who. lol.
2. You are walking in the woods. You see an animal. What kind of animal is it?
Wolf
3. What interaction takes place between you and the animal?
I freeze.
4. You walk deeper in the woods. You enter a clearing and before you is your dream house. Describe it.
Old Victorian with wrap-around porch and beautiful windows.
5. Is your dream house surrounded by a fence?
Only the backyard.
6. You enter the house. You walk in to the dining room and see the dining room table. What do you see on AND around it?
Chairs, a vase with flowers, a notebook and my keys.
7. You exit the house and a cup is on the ground, what kind is it?
Hmmm. Bronze? A gleaming cup of bronze.
8. What do you do with the cup?
Turn it upside down.
9. You walk to the edge of the property where you find yourself standing at the edge of a body of water. What kind of body of water is it?
A pond.
10. How will you cross the water?
Walk around, or swim.
If you read this, you must do it!!!!!!! Really think about your answers and write as truthfully as possible!
( Key, under cut )
current mood: chipper
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| Sunday, April 22nd, 2007
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6:27 pm - Gacked from shadowycat
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What in the WORLD? So I'm from all over, huh? Iiiinteresting. Especially since I was born in North Dakota, spent most of my years in California and now live in Alabama. Should I just close my eyes and point? *snicker* I can tell you RIGHT NOW that I *DO NOT* have a southern accent.
( Read more... )
current mood:  thoughtful
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| Monday, April 16th, 2007
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9:12 am - Random Writing. Unfinished, unedited, but kinda funny. Er. *I* thought.
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It was a cold day in Hell. Myrtle shivered, bemused at this entirely new torment, as the unbearably strange clime settled over Hell’s eternal fires and spewing brimstone like a blanket of frost that some giant shook out and then let fall.
Myrtle rubbed her scaled talons over her blackened skin in great discomfort. You would think that after being barbequed to death for over a thousand years she would have found the drop in temperature a relief, but truth-be-told, after so many years of being crisped by fire and lava she had actually become fairly desensitized to the whole ordeal. Or at least as desensitized as any torture victim can be.
This must be some new punishment, she mused to herself as her teeth chattered and her skin mottled with cold. The other denizens of Hell were having much the same reaction—startled curses in hundreds of languages began to rumble as even the lava pools began to cool into black islands. One unlikely demon had his forked tail caught in the hardening lava and had to be yanked out en masse by the strangest “heave-ho!” that Myrtle had ever witnessed.
Demons, devils, humans, and imps united as they huddled together in groups to preserve body heat. Myrtle stayed on her vantage point (a mound of bone overlooking the fire pit, or what used to be the fire pit) and watched as all the citizens of Hell shook and shivered until they appeared to be doing some sort of bizarre dance.
Funny, thought Myrtle, I believe I used to dance. Memories of her past life had long since been forgotten after the agony of being perpetually tortured, so she found it incredibly odd that in this new, cold Hell, the fuzzy beginnings of old memory had begun to take shape.
She recalled the feel of a fan in her fingers, the swish of silk against her legs as she walked; of a man with dark eyes catching her gaze across a crowded room…
Myrtle shook her head free of such alien thoughts and wrapped her arms more tightly around herself against the backlash of icy winds that began to swirl around the caves of Hell with alarming velocity. Cries for mercy could be heard, rising above even the wind, just as the snowflakes began to flutter from the sky.
Myrtle forgot the cold for a split-second as she watched one delicate ice crystal land on her arm—a perfect star—before it melted away. The wonder of the snow seemed to be catching; for one eerie moment, there was no sound: no screams, no moans, no pleas for mercy. There was only silence as the snowflakes peppered down from some mysterious place above.
current mood: tired
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| Tuesday, March 13th, 2007
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10:54 pm - Haven't written in a while... :( So here's something literary! Kinda. Lol.
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Today marks a passage in time for me. Uh, quite literally. I don't have any real reason to be writing this, barring it being a prime example of my procrastination skills hard at work, yet again.
Okay. THAT being said.....
I just finished reading Vicki Pettersson's "The Scent of Shadows" and it was pretty awesome. I don't know whether any of you have any interest in Urban Fantasy or not, but I can say with complete honesty that it's, by far, my favorite genre of book.
A quick definition of "urban fantasy" brought to you by Wikipedia ('cause I'm cool like that) is:
~A subset of contemporary fantasy, consisting of magical novels and stories set in contemporary, real-world, urban settings -- as opposed to 'traditional' fantasy set in wholly imaginary landscapes, even ones containing imaginary cities, or having most of their action take place in them. The modern urban fantasy protagonist faces extraordinary circumstances as plots unfold in either open (where magic or paranormal events are commonly accepted to exist) or closed (where magical powers or creatures are concealed) worlds.~
I won't go on to talk about the book because I think it'd be extremely difficult to capture all of the necessary elements of it without just flat-out summarizing, which is tedious. I WILL say, once again,that it was a good book--totally worth reading.
Speaking of "reading," we're covering Byron in English Lit and I must confess a schoolgirl crush on the Byronic hero, even though I think Heathcliff is an ass. (of Emily Bronte's "Wuthering Heights") ((Heathcliff is apparently a prime example of the Byronic hero))
Wikipedia says:
~The Byronic hero is an idealized but flawed character exemplified in the life and writings of Lord Byron: characterised by his ex-lover Lady Caroline Lamb as being "mad, bad and dangerous to know". The Byronic hero first appears in Byron's semi-autobiographical epic narrative poem Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (1812-18). ~
There's an entire list of attributes as well, but I'll just keep it simple and make my own: the Byronic hero is a dark, brooding man that's seen too much--he's jaded--he's "bad" and cynical, with all sorts of flaws to his character (a big one often being arrogance) and yet there's so much more to him beneath the surface.
*le sigh* Ooooh yeah, that's definitely crush material. However, I must emphasis "schoolgirl crush," because while the Byronic hero in print (and often movies) makes my heart go pitty-pat, I don't think I could handle that type of person in real-life. Who would want to? Lol.
I suppose the real reason that I find that type of character so appealing is that flaws are often more telling than perfection when it comes to people--or at the very least, they're certainly more interesting. I like seeing someone who's inherently flawed reveal hidden depths. Still waters and all that jazz.
Besides, seeing something heroic shine through a veil of "bad" is infinitely more fun than watching Superman save the day, get the girl, and fly off with perfectly coiffed hair.
If you've managed to stick through this entry to the end I am forced to believe one of two things about you:
1.) You like to read, and thus found this interesting.
or
2.) You're bored out of your mind.
If you consider yourself from the first group- hey, neat! :D And if you are from the latter, then cheer up! 'Cause this entry is about to...........
End.
current mood: bouncy
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| Friday, July 14th, 2006
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3:10 am - Whaaa...?
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I got a really sweet email from someone that really likes/liked? my labyrinth fanfics. They basically asked me to reconsider my statement about not writing fanfic anymore, and while they certainly didn't change my MIND about the way I feel about fanfic right now, they DID inspire me to finally finish the third installment of "Cradle" that's been sitting abandoned on my computer.
That's right. I actually UPDATED. One of MY fanfics! That's not to say that it'll ever happen AGAIN, but hey! I'm feeling pretty good about it! Y'know. Now that it's DONE and all. :P
Hmm. I know that I've been neglecting my LJ so I'll try and be less sporadic about that and I hope that all of my friends (you know who you are!) are doing well!
*HUGS*
current mood:  confused
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| Tuesday, February 14th, 2006
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10:28 am - How Cool!
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Kelley Armstrong is the author of the "Otherworld" series, including a personal favorite of mine, "Bitten." I recently forayed onto her website and found that not only does she support fanfiction, she has an area on her discussion board for solely that purpose! I thought it was so cool that I got all amped up to write a fanfic just to post it. :)
And I worked and worked and worked until I was *almost* done... It was really coming together and I was pleased with it... THEN the program shut down and I LOST 2/3 of it!!!!!
So now I'm re-writing. Painstakingly, with an emphasis on PAIN.
Dammit if I had just SAVED the stupid thing right before! The kicker ofcourse is that I was about one sentence AWAY FROM DOING IT!
*sniffle*
This SUCKS.
current mood:  aggravated
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| Monday, August 8th, 2005
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1:06 am - So still in the whole: Move process.....
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We have our house up for sale, and we're doing some last minute home improvements along with ducking out of the house whenever someone intends to come view it. Which leaves me pretty busy. Really, REALLY busy. haha
Anyway, I'll TRY checking in here and stuff but I figure it'll be a little while before I really have anything to report, or any real time to go through and comment on stuff. So hopefully I shall be back soon. I hope everyone's doing good! :)
current mood:  harried
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| Wednesday, August 3rd, 2005
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9:46 pm - On the move! Literally....
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I'm moving, so things will be pretty crazy for me for a while.... I'll try and check in but it might be a while!
Love and hugs to all!
current mood: chipper
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| Saturday, July 16th, 2005
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4:26 pm - Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince
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I purchased my $15-- copy at Walmart (exactly $17 inc. tax) And finished reading it (with a few breaks for lunch and coming home) a few minutes ago.
I offer no spoilers, neither do I offer much of an opinion since there is still much that is sinking in... I WILL however say that I thoroughly enjoyed the book, as I have all the others. :D
And boy do I have some QUESTIONS for Madam Rowling. :P
I'll control my rioting thoughts until more people on the 'net have gotten to the book so I can question, squee, and postulate with others.
;)Happy reading!
current mood: cheerful
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| Tuesday, June 28th, 2005
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3:54 pm - Nicked From Lorelei
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70 means you're a movie freak... (Though I find that debatable, lol)
( Movie List Below )
125 for me. Though I only counted the movies that I've watched from beginning to end, not the ones that I've seen most of, or seen in chunks.
current mood: happy
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| Sunday, June 19th, 2005
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5:43 pm - Random and right off the press.
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“You aren't afraid of me are you?”
The sound of his voice rolled into the chill of the night.
She paused, her shoe scuffing against the pavement audibly. Slowly, carefully, she turned into the darker shadows of the wall in front of her. Her gloved fingers caught on the roughness of brick as she leaned her weight forward and did her best to blend into the building. She wasn't in the safest area in town, and whether she liked it or not, lone women walking down darkened streets were often deemed easy prey.
“You don't have to be frightened, I can help you. I know what you are.”
Her stomach tingled as that smooth purr of sound echoed from somewhere behind her. It was a man, a strange man with a voice so sensual she could feel the echoes of it seep into her skin even as she forced her breathing into soft, slow puffs.
She heard a growl, menacing enough that her knees wobbled slightly and her heart-rate sped up to a steady staccato.
“Easy. I can help you. You have to trust me.”
A hint of command in that calm voice, a soothing feel woven throughout the words.
She turned towards the voice, edging carefully forward through shadows and past puddles that glistened, the gleam of it brighter than the dim amber streetlights across the street. Something carried her forwards, her steps light as air on the cement, breath easing almost silently in and out of her parted lips.
She saw them then, illuminated in the dirty light from the lamppost, a tall silhouette against the quiet dark of an empty street. A large shadow, reaching the man's hip. Light growls reverberating from a gleam of white teeth. Some sort of dog, she concluded. A big breed, maybe wild. The dog's shadow bristled as the man took a step forward, the growl emerging louder. She almost screamed when the light caught it full in the face, a snarling image that belonged in a nightmare or a twisted fairytale.
Wolf.
Her mind screamed it. Back away, slowly, carefully. My what big eyes you have Grandmother... The lines of a beloved fairytale, Gram reading to her, smoothing her hair as her words took them both into a dark fairytale forest, and into a cottage where the one you loved was replaced by a monster ready to devour. Gram had loved reading her fairytales. The better to see you with, my dear...
Her eyes were wide, her breath lodged in her throat as she backed steadily away from the danger. Her shoe ground against glass, the noise echoing into the night.
Caught. Trapped.
The better to eat you with, my dear...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Just a random bit of drivel. ;) Probably half-inspired by the Prose_pirates thread on yahoo actually getting used. lol
current mood: bored
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| Friday, May 27th, 2005
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11:33 am - My Harddrive Failed.
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And everything's lost.
AGAIN.
And did anyone teach me how to back up the damn files? NOOOOOOOO.
SO all my files, all my links, and all of my programs are currently sitting in a piece of metal smaller than a tuna fish can.
It ALSO means that I won't be able to really get on the computer much until things are fixed.
Just figured I'd let you all know that.
(Pictures, stories, and reports from my trip will be unavoidably detained while I go into a corner and rip my hair out.)
I've already had to start over once, doing it again is more likely to KILL me, NOT make me stronger. Plus I had files on that thing that mean....MEANT a lot to me.
Argh.... I've got to go. This is thoroughly depressing me.
Hope that you're all doing well.... And my most SINCERE and FERVENT hopes that your computer's are NOT crapping out on you...
current mood:  listless
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| Friday, April 15th, 2005
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8:18 pm - My Disappearing Ways.
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I leave for the Philippines in a little over a week. 8 days if you count from midnight tonight.
And I haven't packed ANYTHING or bought ANY of the stuff I need.
I'm not panicking or anything I still have a while, but I AM a little nervous. And excited. ;)
Anyway. Enough about that. Hehe LOL
So I now own "Mirage" The first three in the "Indigo" series: Nemesis, Inferno, Infanta... And the second and third books in the "Time" series: The Outcast, The Master... The only book I'm waiting for is the first book: The Initiate.
And I'm soooooo tired right now. I had this *idea* that I should get on here and write something... and I'm looking at the woefully short sentences above and realizing that I overshot a *wee* bit. ;)
So goodnight all, I'll try and get on tomorrow and actually ACCOMPLISH something.
current mood: calm
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| Friday, April 8th, 2005
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6:01 pm - Inquiry....
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Do any of you know of any web-hosting sites for WAV. files? I recorded myself and I want to find a way to get my recordings online so my friends may hear but I'm pretty clueless as to how and I've been Googl-ing my little heart out for quite some time now.
Any information you can share will be GREATLY appreciated!
Thanks! ;)
current mood:  determined
current music: "Firefly" Breaking Benjamin
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