Mine Eyes...or Whatever

Before moving on to the liberating matters, would anyone mind telling me what the fourth chord in the intro of "Love Song" by Sarah Bareilles-whateverhernameis? I don't think my piano has all the keys hers does-everything else sounds right but that.

And I really like comments, whether you read this entry or not. Especially if you rudely vote on my poll and left. It makes me angry.

Now, lets continue...

I love eyes. I have an obsession with them, I believe. I like drawing them and describing them and looking at them. I was smiling with great googoly-mougally giddiness as I was reading The Sea-Wolf by Jack London and came across this whole paragraph:

The eyes—and it was my destiny to know them well—were large and handsome, wide apart as the true artist’s are wide, sheltering under a heavy brow and arched over by thick black eyebrows. The eyes themselves were of that baffling protean gray which is never twice the same; which runs through many shades and colorings like intershot silk in sunshine; which is gray, dark and light, and greenish-gray, and sometimes of the clear azure of the deep sea. They were eyes that masked the soul with a thousand guises and that sometimes opened, at rare moments, and allowed it to rush up as though it were about to fare forth nakedly into the world on some wonderful adventure—eyes that could brood with the hopeless somberness of leaden skies, that could snap and crackle points of fire like those which sparkle from a whirling sword, that could grow chill as an arctic landscape, and yet again, that could warm and soften and be all a-dance with lovelights, intense and masculine, luring and compelling, which as the same time fascinated and dominate women till they surrender in a gladness of joy and relief and sacrifice.

I really love that paragraph (though I never wish to surrender to eyes in sacrifice or anything, thank you very much). I love eyes (have I mentioned?). One particular person I know has these beautiful, stunning, radiant green eyes. I describe these green eyes in a book I am writing, I didn’t base the character off of the person I know, just the eyes. Here’s how I describe them:

Her heart was, for a moment, filled to the top with admiration for the green eyes, though she was not sure why such a thing would stir up a great bout of emotion in anyone. With the fear that she might melt away in the presence of the eyes, which to her were quite the equivalent of a sweet, mourning Celtic melody, she averted her own quickly.

Not as beautifully detailed as Jack London, but there you have it. I also like to draw eyes… I have a couple in my sketchbook. I’m not very visually artistic though, so they’re not too phenomenal or anything. I’m not visual ANYTHING, gosh darn it. I’m (according to my psychology teacher) kinesthetic-auditory. I learn and remember things by doing and listening, preferably at the same time. It’s so very nice to know that…

Anyway, I must run to class…I suppose we’ll watch Act II of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. That should be fun. Hm…watching movies in Literature class…

~Jessica