Below are the 2 most recent journal entries recorded in thaernulie's LiveJournal:

Tuesday, April 25th, 2006
10:34 am	It's a PLAY! BORN, to Thaernulie, on Monday, April 24th at 7:08 pm: a PLAY, "Kyria, Dragonslayer". Height: 8.5 inches, Weight, .6 lbs, Length, 126 pages. "Kyria" is Thaernulie's second child, and big sister "Avalon" is really excited! -------------------------------- *Giggle* I wonder what they'd do if I put that in the Bryn Athyn Post? I've always felt my intellectual accomplishments were like babies. :) My brain is breathing a sigh of relief, today, that the play was completed enough to bring to the B-Act proposal meeting last night. Do I think not a word of it will change before it gets to the stage? Nope. I don't. They may come back and tell me that I should really re-write it and pitch it again. If they do that, I probably will. But what I CAN feel good about, is that I made my goal. My goal was to go back to the meeting, in a year, with a written version of the play, and pitch it, which I did. Whatever else happens, I kept my word, and I'm proud of that! I think it means I have integrity, and I haven't lost my ability to focus on the things I want to do in life and get them done. Goal-keeping behavior is very near and dear to me, from way back when I first learned about it during my Cinekyd days, so I am SO HAPPY when I see I can do it. Today, I have faith in myself, and I can walk around (or LIE around, resting in exhaustion from all my labor) with my head held high. :) I don't know what's going to happen in the future, but I know it's a beautiful, beautiful day today. :D (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Tuesday, August 9th, 2005
12:11 am	Welcome to the Thaernulian Wastes! As you can see, there's nothing here. I keep my real journal elsewhere, this is just the account I have to read my friends' LiveJournals. So sorry, folks. Here's an awesome poem as a consolation prize, though: Ozymandias I met a traveler from an antique land Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read, Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed, And on the pedestal these words appear: "My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings: Look upon my works, ye Mighty, and despair!" Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away. -Percy Bysshe Shelley 1792-1822 (Comment on this)