Thank you KHV. Exactly a year ago, while watching the stupid files, I noticed a site name. I decided to check it out, and a few days later I joined. Back then on that site, I was such a noob. It was my first forum, and I had no sense of what I was doing. I loved it though, and I stayed dedicated. On that site, I made a lot of friends, and soon became pretty well known. It felt like a second home, for better or for worse, and really opened me up to the internet. I guess you could call it fate that I watched that vid and joined it. You already have figured it out, hopefully, the site I'm talking about was THIS site. Thank you everyone for a wonderful first year on KHV. I really appreciate EVERYTHING you've all done, looking out for me, being a friend, giving me endless lols, and all that stuff. You've inspired me to actually make a KH-Drama site, the one I kept joking about. I would like it when it is up to have a bunch of you join, just for the lolz (not really advertising ;o) I've tried to be on here as often as I can, and I will continue to do so. Thank you for such a wonderful year.
[And I did well, so it looks like I can stay here for the next two months ;D Ahh, remember the time where I wasn't allowed on for two months? Good times when I got four B's xDD This time I did pretty well]
[And.......]Har har click the thread
Gogogo!
Just to keep them somewhere ;D
[6 more days until....(find the white text ;o]You know you want to click the thread ;D [Oh noes you're going to have to waaaaait to find out.] .
My ipod screen is plain white! Nothing is showing up even though I can still listen to the music! I've tried everything? D; What do I do? I've turned it off and on, I've charged it, I've synced it...
Har har, open the thread and find ouuuut. [9 more days guys. Untilllllll....*deep breath* =D]
Ahuh Ahuh (Yea Purple) Ahuh Ahuh (Good melon gone bad) Ahuh Ahuh (Take three... Action) Ho! No clouds in my storms Let it rain, I hydroplane in the fame (eh-eh) Coming down with the Dow Jones When the clouds come we gone, we Rocafella(eh-eh) We fly higher than weather and G5s are better, you know me in anticipation, for precipitation. Stack chips for the rainy day Jay, Rain Man is back with little Miss Sunshine Watermelon where you at? [Rihanna:] You had my heart And we'll never be worlds apart Maybe in magazines But you'll still be my fruit Baby cause in the dark You can't see shiny cars And that's when you need me there With you I'll always share Because [Chorus:] When the sun shine, we shine together Told you I'll be here forever Said I'll always be your fruit Took an oath I'ma stick it out till the end Now that it's raining more than ever Know that we'll still have each other You can stand under my watermelon You can stand under my watermelon (Elon elon eh eh eh) Under my watermelon (Elon elon eh eh eh) Under my watermelon (Elon elon eh eh eh) Under my watermelon (Elon elon eh eh eh eh eh eh) These fancy things, will never come in between You're part of my entity, here for infinity When the world has took it's part When the world has dealt it's cards If your hand is hard, together we'll mend your heart. Because: [Chorus:] When the sun shine, we shine together Told you I'll be here forever Said I'll always be a fruit Took an oath I'ma stick it out till the end Now that it's raining more than ever Know that we'll still have each other You can stand under my watermelon You can stand under my watermelon (Elon elon eh eh eh) Under my watermelon (Elon elon eh eh eh) Under my watermelon (Elon elon eh eh eh) Under my watermelon (Elon elon eh eh eh eh eh eh) You can run into my leaves It's okay don't be alarmed Come into me There's no distance in between our love So go on and let the rain pour I'll be all you need and more Because [Chorus:] When the sun shine, we shine together Told you I'll be here forever Said I'll always be a fruit Took an oath I'ma stick it out till the end Now that it's raining more than ever Know that we'll still have each other You can stand under my watermelon You can stand under my watermelon (Elon elon eh eh eh) Under my watermelon (Elon elon eh eh eh) Under my watermelon (Elon elon eh eh eh) Under my watermelon (Elon elon eh eh eh eh eh eh) It's raining,raining Ooh purple it's raining,raining Purple come into me Come into me It's raining,raining Ooh purple it's raining,raining you can always come into me, come into me It's pouring rain, It's pouring rain Come into me, come into me It's pouring rain, It's pouring Come into me, Come into me
A story by Frank Stockton that you've probably read. If not, then I'm posting it anyway. So...what do you think? The Lady? Or the Tiger? Why? Frank Stockton The Lady Or The Tiger? In the very olden time there lived a semi-barbaric king, whose ideas, though somewhat polished and sharpened by the progressiveness of distant Latin neighbors, were still large, florid, and untrammeled, as became the half of him which was barbaric. He was a man of exuberant fancy, and, withal, of an authority so irresistible that, at his will, he turned his varied fancies into facts. He was greatly given to self-communing, and, when he and himself agreed upon anything, the thing was done. When every member of his domestic and political systems moved smoothly in its appointed course, his nature was bland and genial; but, whenever there was a little hitch, and some of his orbs got out of their orbits, he was blander and more genial still, for nothing pleased him so much as to make the crooked straight and crush down uneven places. Among the borrowed notions by which his barbarism had become semified was that of the public arena, in which, by exhibitions of manly and beastly valor, the minds of his subjects were refined and cultured. But even here the exuberant and barbaric fancy asserted itself. The arena of the king was built, not to give the people an opportunity of hearing the rhapsodies of dying gladiators, nor to enable them to view the inevitable conclusion of a conflict between religious opinions and hungry jaws, but for purposes far better adapted to widen and develop the mental energies of the people. This vast amphitheater, with its encircling galleries, its mysterious vaults, and its unseen passages, was an agent of poetic justice, in which crime was punished, or virtue rewarded, by the decrees of an impartial and incorruptible chance. When a subject was accused of a crime of sufficient importance to interest the king, public notice was given that on an appointed day the fate of the accused person would be decided in the king's arena, a structure which well deserved its name, for, although its form and plan were borrowed from afar, its purpose emanated solely from the brain of this man, who, every barleycorn a king, knew no tradition to which he owed more allegiance than pleased his fancy, and who ingrafted on every adopted form of human thought and action the rich growth of his barbaric idealism. When all the people had assembled in the galleries, and the king, surrounded by his court, sat high up on his throne of royal state on one side of the arena, he gave a signal, a door beneath him opened, and the accused subject stepped out into the amphitheater. Directly opposite him, on the other side of the enclosed space, were two doors, exactly alike and side by side. It was the duty and the privilege of the person on trial to walk directly to these doors and open one of them. He could open either door he pleased; he was subject to no guidance or influence but that of the aforementioned impartial and incorruptible chance. If he opened the one, there came out of it a hungry tiger, the fiercest and most cruel that could be procured, which immediately sprang upon him and tore him to pieces as a punishment for his guilt. The moment that the case of the criminal was thus decided, doleful iron bells were clanged, great wails went up from the hired mourners posted on the outer rim of the arena, and the vast audience, with bowed heads and downcast hearts, wended slowly their homeward way, mourning greatly that one so young and fair, or so old and respected, should have merited so dire a fate. But, if the accused person opened the other door, there came forth from it a lady, the most suitable to his years and station that his majesty could select among his fair subjects, and to this lady he was immediately married, as a reward of his innocence. It mattered not that he might already possess a wife and family, or that his affections might be engaged upon an object of his own selection; the king allowed no such subordinate arrangements to interfere with his great scheme of retribution and reward. The exercises, as in the other instance, took place immediately, and in the arena. Another door opened beneath the king, and a priest, followed by a band of choristers, and dancing maidens blowing joyous airs on golden horns and treading an epithalamic measure, advanced to where the pair stood, side by side, and the wedding was promptly and cheerily solemnized. Then the gay brass bells rang forth their merry peals, the people shouted glad hurrahs, and the innocent man, preceded by children strewing flowers on his path, led his bride to his home. This was the king's semi-barbaric method of administering justice. Its perfect fairness is obvious. The criminal could not know out of which door would come the lady; he opened either he pleased, without having the slightest idea whether, in the next instant, he was to be devoured or married. On some occasions the tiger came out of one door, and on some out of the other. The decisions of this tribunal were not only fair, they were positively determinate: the accused person was instantly punished if he found himself guilty, and, if innocent, he was rewarded on the spot, whether he liked it or not. There was no escape from the judgments of the king's arena. The institution was a very popular one. When the people gathered together on one of the great trial days, they never knew whether they were to witness a bloody slaughter or a hilarious wedding. This element of uncertainty lent an interest to the occasion which it could not otherwise have attained. Thus, the masses were entertained and pleased, and the thinking part of the community could bring no charge of unfairness against this plan, for did not the accused person have the whole matter in his own hands? This semi-barbaric king had a daughter as blooming as his most florid fancies, and with a soul as fervent and imperious as his own. As is usual in such cases, she was the apple of his eye, and was loved by him above all humanity. Among his courtiers was a young man of that fineness of blood and lowness of station common to the conventional heroes of romance who love royal maidens. This royal maiden was well satisfied with her lover, for he was handsome and brave to a degree unsurpassed in all this kingdom, and she loved him with an ardor that had enough of barbarism in it to make it exceedingly warm and strong. This love affair moved on happily for many months, until one day the king happened to discover its existence. He did not hesitate nor waver in regard to his duty in the premises. The youth was immediately cast into prison, and a day was appointed for his trial in the king's arena. This, of course, was an especially important occasion, and his majesty, as well as all the people, was greatly interested in the workings and development of this trial. Never before had such a case occurred; never before had a subject dared to love the daughter of the king. In after years such things became commonplace enough, but then they were in no slight degree novel and startling. The tiger-cages of the kingdom were searched for the most savage and relentless beasts, from which the fiercest monster might be selected for the arena; and the ranks of maiden youth and beauty throughout the land were carefully surveyed by competent judges in order that the young man might have a fitting bride in case fate did not determine for him a different destiny. Of course, everybody knew that the deed with which the accused was charged had been done. He had loved the princess, and neither he, she, nor any one else, thought of denying the fact; but the king would not think of allowing any fact of this kind to interfere with the workings of the tribunal, in which he took such great delight and satisfaction. No matter how the affair turned out, the youth would be disposed of, and the king would take an aesthetic pleasure in watching the course of events, which would determine whether or not the young man had done wrong in allowing himself to love the princess. The appointed day arrived. From far and near the people gathered, and thronged the great galleries of the arena, and crowds, unable to gain admittance, massed themselves against its outside walls. The king and his court were in their places, opposite the twin doors, those fateful portals, so terrible in their similarity. All was ready. The signal was given. A door beneath the royal party opened, and the lover of the princess walked into the arena. Tall, beautiful, fair, his appearance was greeted with a low hum of admiration and anxiety. Half the audience had not known so grand a youth had lived among them. No wonder the princess loved him! What a terrible thing for him to be there! As the youth advanced into the arena he turned, as the custom was, to bow to the king, but he did not think at all of that royal personage. His eyes were fixed upon the princess, who sat to the right of her father. Had it not been for the moiety of barbarism in her nature it is probable that lady would not have been there, but her intense and fervid soul would not allow her to be absent on an occasion in which she was so terribly interested. From the moment that the decree had gone forth that her lover should decide his fate in the king's arena, she had thought of nothing, night or day, but this great event and the various subjects connected with it. Possessed of more power, influence, and force of character than any one who had ever before been interested in such a case, she had done what no other person had done - she had possessed herself of the secret of the doors. She knew in which of the two rooms, that lay behind those doors, stood the cage of the tiger, with its open front, and in which waited the lady. Through these thick doors, heavily curtained with skins on the inside, it was impossible that any noise or suggestion should come from within to the person who should approach to raise the latch of one of them. But gold, and the power of a woman's will, had brought the secret to the princess. And not only did she know in which room stood the lady ready to emerge, all blushing and radiant, should her door be opened, but she knew who the lady was. It was one of the fairest and loveliest of the damsels of the court who had been selected as the reward of the accused youth, should he be proved innocent of the crime of aspiring to one so far above him; and the princess hated her. Often had she seen, or imagined that she had seen, this fair creature throwing glances of admiration upon the person of her lover, and sometimes she thought these glances were perceived, and even returned. Now and then she had seen them talking together; it was but for a moment or two, but much can be said in a brief space; it may have been on most unimportant topics, but how could she know that? The girl was lovely, but she had dared to raise her eyes to the loved one of the princess; and, with all the intensity of the savage blood transmitted to her through long lines of wholly barbaric ancestors, she hated the woman who blushed and trembled behind that silent door. When her lover turned and looked at her, and his eye met hers as she sat there, paler and whiter than any one in the vast ocean of anxious faces about her, he saw, by that power of quick perception which is given to those whose souls are one, that she knew behind which door crouched the tiger, and behind which stood the lady. He had expected her to know it. He understood her nature, and his soul was assured that she would never rest until she had made plain to herself this thing, hidden to all other lookers-on, even to the king. The only hope for the youth in which there was any element of certainty was based upon the success of the princess in discovering this mystery; and the moment he looked upon her, he saw she had succeeded, as in his soul he knew she would succeed. Then it was that his quick and anxious glance asked the question: "Which?" It was as plain to her as if he shouted it from where he stood. There was not an instant to be lost. The question was asked in a flash; it must be answered in another. Her right arm lay on the cushioned parapet before her. She raised her hand, and made a slight, quick movement toward the right. No one but her lover saw her. Every eye but his was fixed on the man in the arena. He turned, and with a firm and rapid step he walked across the empty space. Every heart stopped beating, every breath was held, every eye was fixed immovably upon that man. Without the slightest hesitation, he went to the door on the right, and opened it. Now, the point of the story is this: Did the tiger come out of that door, or did the lady ? The more we reflect upon this question, the harder it is to answer. It involves a study of the human heart which leads us through devious mazes of passion, out of which it is difficult to find our way. Think of it, fair reader, not as if the decision of the question depended upon yourself, but upon that hot-blooded, semi-barbaric princess, her soul at a white heat beneath the combined fires of despair and jealousy. She had lost him, but who should have him? How often, in her waking hours and in her dreams, had she started in wild horror, and covered her face with her hands as she thought of her lover opening the door on the other side of which waited the cruel fangs of the tiger! But how much oftener had she seen him at the other door! How in her grievous reveries had she gnashed her teeth, and torn her hair, when she saw his start of rapturous delight as he opened the door of the lady! How her soul had burned in agony when she had seen him rush to meet that woman, with her flushing cheek and sparkling eye of triumph; when she had seen him lead her forth, his whole frame kindled with the joy of recovered life; when she had heard the glad shouts from the multitude, and the wild ringing of the happy bells; when she had seen the priest, with his joyous followers, advance to the couple, and make them man and wife before her very eyes; and when she had seen them walk away together upon their path of flowers, followed by the tremendous shouts of the hilarious multitude, in which her one despairing shriek was lost and drowned! Would it not be better for him to die at once, and go to wait for her in the blessed regions of semi-barbaric futurity? And yet, that awful tiger, those shrieks, that blood! Her decision had been indicated in an instant, but it had been made after days and nights of anguished deliberation. She had known she would be asked, she had decided what she would answer, and, without the slightest hesitation, she had moved her hand to the right. The question of her decision is one not to be lightly considered, and it is not for me to presume to set myself up as the one person able to answer it. And so I leave it with all of you: Which came out of the opened door - the lady, or the tiger?
Likes Dane Cook as much as I do?
By the electoral votes, Obama has enough to be our Presideeeeent! Yessssss!
The results are in! Last months's winner is.... Shades~ It was a difficult decision, we loved them both. Jiku Neon's (Trogdor's) story followed the plot more and was very nice, but we liked the style of Shades's better, even though it wasn't exactly following the storyline as much as we would like. The vote was 2 to 1. Here's the short story contest for this month~ ONE story per person. You can't post another one, but if you want you can edit the old one or replace it entirely, as long as the old one is no longer in the contest. There has to be at least a few paragraphs, not an exact number, but you should, as a writer, understand what is enough. As long as you have the point down, it's fine. The recommended minimum has yet to be decided, but I'd say 25. You can have 24, or 23 or around their, but as long as you feel it is a rich enough story. There is no maximum amount of paragraphs. The judges this round are me, O R A N G E, and Chevalier. If Shades (winner of last month) wants to replace me as a judge, that's fine. Knowing him, he wouldn't want to though XD Judges can submit a story of there own, though they can not vote for their's. Keep the story to a PG 13 level, including language. Accepted words are ass, hell and damn, but besides that all other cuss words shall be starred (***) out or have stars between them. Any number of people can enter each month. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The deadline this month is 11/29 Now, here's the plot line this month: You're an orphan that came from Rhode Island, and you are around 11 years old. You lost your parents and your siblings in the woods duing a camping trip a few days ago after a devastating car crash. No one has found you, though, and you are lost in unfamiliar parts of deep woods no where near your home. You are unsure if you are near any society or people, and even though you have supplies you need you aren't sure if you can live the winter. What will happen to you? Good luck~
At school, everyone thinks my brother is mental. He has this thing, borderline, that makes him a little different. It's what made Einstien smart, and Edison. It's called Asbergus Syndrome, and it makes you less sociable then normal, and you form a lot of habits. Sometimes, actually quite often, it makes you extremely smart. I mean, Steve Carrel has it, and no one thinks he's mental, but that's because he's a celebrity. Most people don't know what it is, anyway :/ So anyway, because people think he's mental, and so now they think I'm mental. I have a totally different personality here and outside of public places like school. At school, I barely talk except for at lunch. At lunch I'm with my best friend and a bunch of other friends, and with them I can act normal. It's really unfair, I think, to judge people by there siblings. Even if your sibling isn't mental. I have a lot of pressure on me. People are always giving me looks, I hate it. I want them to see that I'm not mental. In tech, a bunch of people think I am. I like this kid in my tech class: he's really cute, and funny. He, at least, doesn't think I am mental. My friend and I are at the same table as them, and when we are working on our bridges (that's what we're doing in tech) we always seem to get into each others' conversations. He'll be talking to his friend, and we'll say something. I'll be talking to my friend, and he'll say something to us. He also makes me laugh, because all the time when I burn myself with the glue gun (AKA once every class >.>) he always makes a joke about it and I feel better. I just don't want him to start thinking I'm mental, too. I really don't think he will, but anything is possible. It's a lot of pressure when everyone thinks you have problems. :/ Help please? D:
In 17 minutes ._.
Aw, I missed the SOTW ;__; Anyway, here's my Halloween sig. Edit: Oh yes, the render. http://planetrenders.net/renders/di...alloweensig3.png[/IMG][/COLOR][/FONT][/RIGHT]
I'll write your username on my school planner :3 Gogogo! Edit: Yes, this post counts as one, as well as my others ._.
So I was gettin' ready to go to church when I was at my mom's house, and when it was time to go I went outside and so did my brother. My mom was locking the door and I was walkin' down the steps veeery carefully, because it rained the night before and wood with leaves and water is not a pretty combination. So I was about halfway down when I slipped and slid down the wooden steps, my back slamming against the wood. If I had hit my head, I'd be in a coma or worse. That staircase is looong. It goes up to the second story of the house, and so it was a long fall. It hurt soooo much, I think I might have fractured something. Yeah...I should go to a doctor soon.
Eh... one of those castle things. Post gogogo
