<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>

<rss version="2.0" xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:creativeCommons="http://backend.userland.com/creativeCommonsRssModule">
    <channel>
        <title>deviantART: by:ignisdea</title>
        <link>http://search.deviantart.com/?q=by:ignisdea&amp;section=today</link>
        <description>deviantART RSS for by:ignisdea</description>
        <language>en-us</language>
        <copyright>Copyright 2009, deviantART.com</copyright>

        <pubDate>Tue, 15 Dec 2009 06:42:56 PST</pubDate>        
        <generator>deviantART.com</generator>
        <docs>http://blogs.law.harvard.edu/tech/rss</docs>
        <atom:icon>http://s.deviantart.com/minish/widgets/apple-touch-icon-precomposed.png</atom:icon>
        <atom:link href="http://backend.deviantart.com/rss.xml?q=by%3Aignisdea&amp;type=journal" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml" />
                  <item>
                <title>One Times One</title>
                <link>http://ignisdea.deviantart.com/journal/8574360/</link>
                <guid isPermaLink="true">http://ignisdea.deviantart.com/journal/8574360/</guid>
                <pubDate>Mon, 24 Apr 2006 18:39:28 PDT</pubDate>
                
                <description><![CDATA[ pitty this busy monster, mand unkind,<br />
<br />
not.  Progress is a comfortable disease:<br />
your victim (death and lfie safely beyond)<br />
<br />
plays with the bigness of his littleness<br />
--electrons deify one razorblade<br />
into a mountainrange;lenses extend<br />
<br />
unwish through curving wherewhen till unwish<br />
returns on its unself.<br />
                                   A world of made<br />
is not a world of born--pitty poor flesh<br />
<br />
and trees, pour stars and stones, but never this<br />
fine specimen of hypermagical<br />
ultraomnipotence.  We doctors know<br />
<br />
a hopless case if--listen: there's a hell<br />
of a good universe next door; lets go.<br />
<br />
-ee cummings<br />
<br />
I might have a new favorite poem ]]></description>
                <author>~ignisdea</author>
            </item>
          <item>
                <title>Yes I still exist</title>
                <link>http://ignisdea.deviantart.com/journal/8323491/</link>
                <guid isPermaLink="true">http://ignisdea.deviantart.com/journal/8323491/</guid>
                <pubDate>Fri, 31 Mar 2006 12:50:38 PST</pubDate>
                
                <description><![CDATA[ <img src="http://e.deviantart.com/emoticons/s/smile.gif" width="15" height="15" alt=":)" title=":) (Smile)" /> ]]></description>
                <author>~ignisdea</author>
            </item>
          <item>
                <title>For Dan - FINAL</title>
                <link>http://ignisdea.deviantart.com/journal/6974982/</link>
                <guid isPermaLink="true">http://ignisdea.deviantart.com/journal/6974982/</guid>
                <pubDate>Wed, 04 Jan 2006 20:20:53 PST</pubDate>
                
                <description><![CDATA[ Given the choice to tell 20 things about myself or battle to death with Pierre the Pesky Poodle... I figure I'll go for the 20 things.  Don't get me wrong, I could take on Pierre, but who would want to kill a poodle?  So:<br />
<br />
1.  I plan to get a 1 way ticket around the world after I get out of college and stop by about 50 citties on my way back here.<br />
<br />
2.  My middle name is Rhea and I have to look at my drivers license every time I try to spell it.<br />
<br />
3.  My father wanted to name me Buffalo.  He thought it'd be great because my nickname would be Buffy.<br />
<br />
4.  After he got over Buffalo my father wante me and my brother to be Boris and Natasha.<br />
<br />
5.  I dislike parsley<br />
<br />
6.  I can knit - thought the last thing I actually finished was a hat and that was in 8th grade.<br />
<br />
Edit - Continued.<br />
<br />
7.  I'm afriad of amusement park rides.  That incldues roller coasters, ferris wheels, large dark water slides, you name it.  I get sick on the merry-go-round so we'll even count that in there too.<br />
<br />
8.  I also greatly dislike elevators to the extent that for the 4 months when I had broken my ankle and had a cast up to my thy I still took the stairs.<br />
<br />
9.  My favorite food is Thai red curry<br />
<br />
Edit- Continued... again...<br />
<br />
10. I'm a procrastinater<br />
<br />
11. I can't spell for the life of me.  I probably couldn't spell for the life of anyone for that matter... but that's where spell check comes in.  <br />
<br />
12.  I claim I know how to speak french.  Just don't try to prove me wrong and I'm set.<br />
<br />
13.  I'm the only person I know who's been able to break their ankle while sitting and talking to their mom.<br />
<br />
14.  I "play" three sports... I fence, play badminton, and rock climb.<br />
<br />
15. As of today, DA thinks I'm a member... but I don't know why cuz I sure havn't paid.<br />
<br />
16.  The first thing I did in 2006 was to go play 4 on 4 football in an abandoned warehouse downtown.<br />
<br />
17.  I don't understand how you know the value of K in the formua for Inertia of a spehere is 2/5.  I know that it is 2/5... I don't know why.<br />
<br />
18.  I have a large fan hanging on my wall (more than 3 ft radius) depicting a phoenix and a dragon, which in chinese history were the symbols of the emporer and the primary emporess.<br />
<br />
19.  I saved a 3 yr old kid from drowning (CPR and everything) and when we finally found his mother she yelled at him for crying and then hit him.  I took him to get some ice cream down the street.<br />
<br />
20.  I havn't done anything artistic in months (even in art class) and its driven me crazy.<br />
<br />
<br />
Damnit Dan. ]]></description>
                <author>~ignisdea</author>
            </item>
          <item>
                <title>If I could talk and you would listen...</title>
                <link>http://ignisdea.deviantart.com/journal/4187725/</link>
                <guid isPermaLink="true">http://ignisdea.deviantart.com/journal/4187725/</guid>
                <pubDate>Wed, 29 Dec 2004 18:36:15 PST</pubDate>
                
                <description><![CDATA[ When you were a baby I sat very still  to hold you.  I could see the veins  through your skin like a map to inside  you.  How could skin be that thin?  I  was so afraid you might drop and break.   I stopped breathing so you wouldn't.<br />
<br />
When you were crying I got out of bed  and went into your room.  You were  thrashing around behind the bars of the  crib, your face twisted and red, like,  how could they be doing this to me?  I  didn't understand why Mom hadn't come  to you.<br />
<br />
You turned your head to look at me.   Your eyes looked so big in your face,  so mysterious-wide and flickering like  a butterfly wing mask.  When you saw me  the walks turned to sobs, and then just  quieter heavs of your body.  I heald  out my finger through the bars.<br />
<br />
Then you reached out and curled your  fingers around me, so tight.  I knew  you recognized me.  That was the first  time I knew I haad a heart inside my  body. ]]></description>
                <author>~ignisdea</author>
            </item>
          <item>
                <title>Eachother</title>
                <link>http://ignisdea.deviantart.com/journal/2491076/</link>
                <guid isPermaLink="true">http://ignisdea.deviantart.com/journal/2491076/</guid>
                <pubDate>Sun, 23 May 2004 14:15:39 PDT</pubDate>
                
                <description><![CDATA[ You know how in different languages,  there are different rules about how to  say things?  Well in french, there's a  spcific wa to say an action, if it's  being done onto eachother or one's  self.  And I know french class and  organization of one's life don't work  together too often, but if one has to  write about what they and someone else  have do to eachther... then  they do.   Especially if that person has to stare  blankly at an equally blank piece of  paper.  To eachother.  What do people  do to eachother?  Hug eachother, play  with eachother, cry on eachother's  sholdiers, marry eachother, but... what  about it.  These things don't fit.   Sure they can happen, It's just... they  don't happen to the person stareing at  the paper.  They only happen in dreams.   But when that happens, when people hug  eachother, when "eachother" exists.   And when life (dreams) seem to be good.   You get backstabbed.  And then you're  dieing.  Dead and dieing at the same  time.  Because who knows if you ever  lived in the first place.  And the  dreams in which I'm dieing are the best  I've ever had.  The thing is, it's not  because "eachother" existed.  It's  because afterwards... there's a slap in  the face and a realization that I can't  have that.  Stop dreaming.  Stop  reaching for what you can't have.  it  says.  And I remember who I am.  And  why I can't write a french paper about  eachother. ]]></description>
                <author>~ignisdea</author>
            </item>
          <item>
                <title>Go ahaid life... Disappear</title>
                <link>http://ignisdea.deviantart.com/journal/2424356/</link>
                <guid isPermaLink="true">http://ignisdea.deviantart.com/journal/2424356/</guid>
                <pubDate>Thu, 13 May 2004 21:31:35 PDT</pubDate>
                
                <description><![CDATA[ He had been walking all day.  There was  no destination, just away.  Away from  where he had been before. There was no  reason to remember the names of others  so he walked and with every step he  forgot.  Forgot where he had come from,  where why he had left, and his past.   It was a forgotten realm of nothing to  be pushed away into the back of his  memory and locked there.  Then it would  grow dusty, and the cobwebs of a mind  would take over the space, making it  useful.  That is what he wished for.   That is what he wanted for his life;  for it to disappear. ]]></description>
                <author>~ignisdea</author>
            </item>
          <item>
                <title>The ones you don't hear about</title>
                <link>http://ignisdea.deviantart.com/journal/2064380/</link>
                <guid isPermaLink="true">http://ignisdea.deviantart.com/journal/2064380/</guid>
                <pubDate>Mon, 22 Mar 2004 17:44:17 PST</pubDate>
                
                <description><![CDATA[ Time to debrief.  put things away into  the "to be forgotten" memories.  Long  hours.  Pounding water.  Pounding  fears.  Naked to everything.  Is that  me?  Am I the one who stands there,  forgetting everything and making up new  memories to be strong.  To hold on by  myself.  I don't ask for help.  I don't  want help.  I just want to be able to  make it through to the finish line.   Problem is, no one knows where that  line is.  You know all those books  about people?  All the ones that have  depressed teens that face their fears?   What if they only make it for the  story, because they're not real.  What  if for every one who makes it, there  are ten who don't.  What if there are  ten people who don't have stories  written about them.  Because they  didn't make it.  Because they got lost.   They didn't cross the finish line.   How do I know weather I'm part of that  unmentionable ten.  What do the  survivors do, choose to take some  almost unseen alley instead of the  easiest road infront of them?  I'm  going to take the alley.  Alone in the  dark, but only 'tll the end.  I'll keep  taking my timeless showers of pouring  memories.  Keep holding my head up  high.  And I'll make it too.  By  myself.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
-----------------<br />
<br />
Is there a reason we all exist, exist  withh the feelings we have?  Is that a  piece of survival?  Did we evolve to  become so screwed?  Do these  feelings... do they exist bcause me  made them up? ]]></description>
                <author>~ignisdea</author>
            </item>
          <item>
                <title>Wouldn't itbe ironic to be runover by an ambulanse</title>
                <link>http://ignisdea.deviantart.com/journal/2000708/</link>
                <guid isPermaLink="true">http://ignisdea.deviantart.com/journal/2000708/</guid>
                <pubDate>Fri, 12 Mar 2004 18:24:00 PST</pubDate>
                
                <description><![CDATA[ You know.  Some people.... Some people  they don't bother to look both ways  before crossing the street.  Some  people want to be HIT by that car.   That bus.  That truck.  That train.   They WANT to feel that pain.  To know  it's REAL.  To know what reality really  is.  That there is something out there  bescides numb.  A NUMB sheet of  nothing.  Then again... there are  others that don't bother to look both  ways. They just feel too INVINCABLE.   Like there's no way anything can happen  to them.  They threaten that vehicle.   They want it to come speeding at them  so they can PROVE they are invincable.   They feel.  Fell as if they can do some  crazy matrix superman move and JUMP  over the moving object.  Or even, right  ontop of it, where they can speed past  everything at 60 miles per hour and  feel the wind in their face, being part  of FOREVER. ]]></description>
                <author>~ignisdea</author>
            </item>
          <item>
                <title>thought</title>
                <link>http://ignisdea.deviantart.com/journal/1980342/</link>
                <guid isPermaLink="true">http://ignisdea.deviantart.com/journal/1980342/</guid>
                <pubDate>Tue, 09 Mar 2004 11:49:24 PST</pubDate>
                
                <description><![CDATA[ You ever had the feeling, the feeling  that the rest of this world.... is just  a joke.   One mean joke,  And one day  someone is going to pull the plug, open  the door to your set... and show you to  reality.  Everyone you know, everyone  you love, everyone you hate.  Is an  idea from someone else's imagination.   That they dont' really exist.  You talk  to them.  Make fun of them, trust them.   Make a fool of yoursel fin front of  them.  ONly to find out it doesn't  matter.  Only to find out it didn't  happen to them.  That their ideas...  their jokes and their fears.  are  programed into them.  THAT THEY DON'T  FUCKING EXIST.  There really is an end  of a world.  It's a set, a theater.   And if you opened the door.  Found the  exit.  The joke would blow up in your  face.  Your life would cease to exsist.   There would be nothing.  Nothing but  one big joke. ]]></description>
                <author>~ignisdea</author>
            </item>
    </channel>
</rss>