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Serendipitous Surprises II ~ ~ ~ (OvO)

Being ME is probably the most AWESOME thing I've ever done  in my life!  :)
I love Helen Keller!!! ^v^

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POSTED BY Jinx ON Friday, 18 November 2011 @ 19:33
Serendipitous Surprises ~ ~ ~ (OvO)
Darling, you may not be perfect, but you are perfect to me.  ~ :)
I'm imperfect....so does that make me beautiful?!!!  ~ >w<

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POSTED BY Jinx ON Wednesday, 16 November 2011 @ 00:26
Capture Thy Dreams

Capture thy dreams,
Grasp thy stars,
Touch thy heavens.....

Write on crested rainbows, weeping moons and faded scars.
For thy escaped dreams shall bring thou far.

Capture thy dreams,
Unlock thy doors,
Seal thy pain.....

Write on fallen arches, wailing creeks and twisted cores.
For thy escaped dreams shall bring thou far.

Capture thy dreams.....
Thy escaped dreams.

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POSTED BY Jinx ON Sunday, 30 October 2011 @ 03:09
It's time to get serious!!!!

I, a 15-year-old girl who could merely fry an egg and write a journal, has been assigned the most dreadful task imaginable - learn the art of sprint writing on the SAT! Writing an essay has never been a problem to me, but writing a SAT essay......now that's a challenge!

Squeezing literary, historical or other scholarly paradigms into an essay is no arduous task for any professional writer like Candace Bushnell or Lauren Weisberger, but for me.....well, what can I say? One word people......ARDUOUS!!! And to my greatest horror, instead of using common essay words like 'practical' and 'difference', I have to inject a variant form of words and drop a few 'pragmatic', 'inextricable' and 'dichotomy' into my writing?...........Gosh, this isn't a joke, is it? I don't even know what 'pragmatic' means! A little finesse and talent won't bolster my confidence this time. I'm literally at the edge of becoming a psychopath, and at the brink of.....death! And.....on top of everything, I would only have 25 minutes to read the question, generate a few ideas and examples, organize my thoughts and compose my essay without making any flagrant spelling mistake or grammatical gaffe. 25 minutes.....merely 25 minutes! 2 hours is perfect, 1 hour is reasonable, but 25 minutes is simply insane!

SAT! SAT! SAT!........the word shouts out to me every now and then, like a quivering note that jumps off a piano chord. I've never been fond of writing formal essays, especially those with mundane titles and boring instructions. I loath those! They're just like colorless rainbows, vacant moons and withered leaves, lifeless....frozen.....dead.

Despite the enormous barrel of reluctance, I somehow, have to strain my every last muscle and remaining nerve, strive to pursue my ostensible goal and reach my ultimate destination- Stanford. Though it may seem like a vague shadow or even a distant mirage, I still have to make it happen! Now, with the SAT guide book clasped in one hand, and my notebook in the other....it's time to get SERIOUS!!!!

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POSTED BY Jinx ON Wednesday, 19 October 2011 @ 03:24
The Magic Paint Brush ~~~ v(0u0)v

Bold streaks of black ink created an abyss of chaotic bursts. Rough, vibrant strokes of orange and a few soft touches of beige formed a delectable stream of nectarines. A remarkable rhapsody of blues: royal blue, cobalt blue, sky blue, navy blue, emerald blue, turquoise, aqua, azure, chambray. A turbulence of fuchsia and amethyst. A glorious conflagration of amber gold and deep, fiery crimson. A cloud of ice-cream pastels: lavender gray, terracotta, peppermint, eggshell violet, blushed rose. A raging turmoil, a brutal clash, an explosion of colors!


Another grenade erupted as the paint brush swept across the canvas, building a tower of pigments. The paint brush began dancing exuberantly through the air as if it were yanked about by invisible strings. It darted around the piece of canvas, swinging back and forth vigorously like a boisterous child in vain. A marvelous work of art, not of a human, but of a paint brush and its magic. Torrential whirlpools it had created......the greatest painting of all times. 

I watched in silence: specks of wonder and intrigue within the intricate structure of crashing pigment.....within the hurricane of colors. Satisfied, the paint brush bounded off  into the dark hallway and into my father's study where he, asleep in his armchair, quietly nodded in the afternoon sunlight. My father never knew its secret, only I did. The paint brush needed no painter, no puppeteer, no owner, no master......all it needed was a little magic.

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POSTED BY Jinx ON Saturday, 15 October 2011 @ 01:01
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