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About Deviant Artist Muffin-chan or MooMoo-chanFemale/United States Recent Activity
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Literature
The White Sign
There is always a line.
Patiently you wait your turn,
Wondering while you wait.
Many things cross your mind...
Will I ever get out of here?
Why does it take so long?
Where is that girl who disappeared twenty minutes ago?
And finally,
Why is there always a line???
Molasses like it creeps forward.
Many go in,
Taking their sweet time.
Moving like winters in Alaska.
Will it ever be spring?
You start to wonder again...
Should I go check?
Maybe see if one lay empty?
No,
Somebody would take my spot.
I'll just wait.
Finally there is just one person in front of you
Your wait is almost up!
But what is this?
A vacancy?
Was it here all along?
Why was no one using it?
You mean to say,
That while I meekly pondered
The depths of the universe,
One was empty?
Just waiting to be used?
Cursing faintly,
You move towards it.
Glaring,
At all of those who had come before.
Still rinsing their hands
And checking their faces.
And then,
As you reach the door
You see that some person,
Some inconsiderate person
Ha
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Literature
Wars for the Mind
I check my phone and no answer.
My heart dips and I'm taken over.
Depression
Anger
Disappointment
Frustration
These are my feelings for him in the span of fifty seconds.
Then I start to rationalize
"He has a life you know!"
"Not everyone is as glued to their phone as you are!"
"He's probably just at work."
"Or he just got off his break!"
My head is filled with these deductions
All in the voice of my best friend.
Not because she has said these things
I've yet to tell her
But because when she's not near me,
She's still in my head.
Minding all the controls.
He's often there too.
Though not as loud or opinionated.
He pops into the occasional dream now and then,
But mostly he's there on the drive home.
And always there on the drive to work.
He likes to come and chat during my religion class,
And I'm always wondering what he would say to this,
Or more enough,
To that.
He is always there when a boy looks at me,
Or talks to me,
Or even when they give me their own version of "t
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Literature
Merry-Go-Round
Do I tell him he's cute?
Do I tell him that whenever he gives me "that" look
I get the overwhelming urge to kiss him?
Do I mention that when he's drunk,
While he's loud
And obnoxious,
And profane,
He is also sweet,
And funny,
And oddly,still really attractive?
Do I tell him I hate waiting by my phone for his messages
For his texts,
For his answers?
Do I tell him that I fall a little more each time I get one?
How can I say all these things?
How can I tell him that I love
When he's flustered,
When he's spouting endlessly about
Movies,
Or sports,
Or faith?
How do I explain that I hate
When he calls an actress "beautiful",
When he doesn't flirt back,
When he "just doesn't get it"?
Whenever he's near, I feel myself going through the of range of my emotions.
When I start out mad,
He does something that inexplicably makes me laugh.
When I'm sad he makes me happy.
When I'm angry he brings me back to center.
When I'm glad,
He makes me more so.
And when I'm happy,
He often does or says some
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Literature
Warring
Vulgarity spews from my mouth
Leaving fresh beads of spit upon
My laptop's ignited screen.
My heart pounds, fueling a flame
Of wildfire wrath I unleash
Upon those before me.
Some of them deserve it more,
But I let none escape.
They had broken into the refuge of my soul
And stole all the intact memories
Leaving nothing but the broken behind.
So in the aftermath, I stepped beyond
The shrapnel of cracked eggshells that was my soul
And called them out on their shit.
But while I wrought my tirade,
Pregnant with repeating obscenities,
Upon those I consider my friends,
I did not overlook my own participation,
In the clawing mess of a catfight which had ensued.
Everyone, no matter what their role took part,
Performing in this diarreatic shitstorm of a ruined play.
So keen on drawing lines in the sand,
We forgot about one another,
Our union hanging by the seams.
Merely threads keeping us from unraveling into obscurity.
Too few of us could look over
And see what it had truly become.
What complet
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Literature
The Toilet Paper King
It was one of those rare cloudless Seattle days; the sun came bright and brilliant through the living room windows turning everything inside into a warm golden blur casting faint shadows on the aftermath of the great toilet paper war.
We were getting ready to move from Seattle to Phoenix, the bags were packed; the car looked like it was about to burst, and to give the apartment a grand old sendoff we enacted a brutal bathroom tissue war as one last hoorah! There were no teams and no words as the ammo was rationed out before our great battle.
Being no more than three at the time, warfare wasn't really in my vocabulary so as I sat down in the corner of the sunlit room I had no thought of honor and glory, but simply of building the biggest toilet paper castle I could while I watched my parents and brother fight amongst themselves.
Alas just as soon as I had begun my great task however, my construction material was cruelly stolen, as ammo ran out quick in ranks of the skirmish which was un
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Literature
I Have Cried On this Page, and I Don't Even Care
I've been thinking about funerals.
Not morbidly,
Not hopelessly,
Not anticipatingly,
Just funerals.
Especially my own.
I want my funeral to be,
           
BIG!

I want it to be about me.
Lavish, wild, people screaming in the isles, Raising highly drunken toasts to me,
To all that I've done that made their lives more enjoyable.
I want my funeral to be,
                
Small.

I want it to be about others.
Quiet, calm, reflecting on the bond we shared;
But with hints of humor,
To remind them I liked my life,
And that I want them to like theirs too.
I want to be remembered.
I want to be missed.
I want tears and laughter and thoughts of better times.
Times when I've made their life memorable,
Times when I've made them cry,
Times when I've made them angry even,
But mostly times when I've made them laugh.
Laughter is the pattern
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:iconfaraday-chan:Faraday-chan 3 2
Literature
On Older Brothers, the Idiocy Thereof.
I stand in darkness the color of old blood,
Surrounded by the hard claustrophobic walls of my spud scented prison.
I throw my shoulder against the stiff wooden door, Shoving all my anger and hate at the barricaded opening to our kitchen pantry.
He's locked me in again.
It wasn't bad enough that he beats me home from school everyday.
It wasn't bad enough that he was charming and suave
And in the fifth grade:
While I, meek and bookish was chubby and in the second.
I started yelling through the white washed woo,
Crying for my brother to let me out.
I can tell he isn't just holding it shut today,
He had braced one of the giraffe like island chairs up against the handle,
Trapping me in.
I start screaming now, But the sound of hyperactive cartoons start drowning me out.
At school, at least in the early years
It seemed like I never had my own identity.
I was always "His Little Sister".
Sometimes I would flaunt this,
But most times I'd just dread it.
Until he left for middle school it would al
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Literature
The End is the Begining
A small boy trenches deeply through waist high snow.
His best friend follows diligently behind,
Fastidiously carrying the well-worn toboggan,
Their faithful magic carpet, which always escapes unscathed:
No matter how many ravines they fail to take it over.
What new adventures await our explorers?
Will they be as great as the one's come before?
Starts, meteors, massive schools of galatic shrapnel,
All throttle past an invisible windshield.
A little red spaceship enters the atmosphere of an unknown world.
Canyons soar up from the beyond, Magenta tinted mesas dot the dehydrated barren landscape.
On the horizon, a tangerine disc sits lows in its arid bed,
Just begining to rise.
A lone ridge glides by, but something's wrong!
DANGER?! Alien scum?
No,
Just the teacher,
Come to banish the daydream.
At the sight of a teenager,
The boy begs his parents not to be abandoned.
She's evil, she's shrewd!
She locked them in the garage once!
But, if he's good, she'll play their favorite game.
Big mistak
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Faraday-chan
Muffin-chan or MooMoo-chan
Artist
United States
Current Residence: In a really wierd house w/ lot of crazy people that drive me up the wall.
Print preference: REALLY BIG
Favourite genre of music: Pop, oldies, or alternative
Favourite photographer: Ansel Adams
Favourite style of art: Anything
MP3 player of choice: My Ipod of course jeez!
Favourite cartoon character: It's characters! Bugs, ARMSTRONG, Wolverine, Nightcrawler, Hellboy, Raven...
Personal Quote: I reject your reality and substitute my own!
Interests
  • Listening to: Whirs and buzzes
  • Reading: The Hunger Games (again)
  • Watching: Star Trek
  • Drinking: Water
So, I tried for the life of me to get to sleep last night, but my brain just wouldn't have it so I started writing. And while all of this writing was going on I thought maybe I'd start posting some of it. I know I'm known a lot for my photos, but for those of you not in the know I consider my self a decent enough writer. So in lieu of some fancy photos I haven't taken, ya'll are going to get something a little different from me.
Here's hoping you'll like it!
Cheers.

Journal History

Comments


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:icondamaimikaz:
DamaiMikaz Featured By Owner Apr 5, 2015  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thanks for the favorite :)
Reply
:iconbethh1994:
BethH1994 Featured By Owner Apr 5, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
thanks 4 the fav
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:iconynnck:
Ynnck Featured By Owner Dec 20, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks for the fav :D!
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:iconfaraday-chan:
Faraday-chan Featured By Owner Jan 19, 2014
No problem! ;)
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:iconguilty-rose:
guilty-rose Featured By Owner Dec 9, 2013  Hobbyist Artisan Crafter
Thanks for the fav!
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:iconfaraday-chan:
Faraday-chan Featured By Owner Dec 9, 2013
Of course you're gorgeous!
Reply
:iconguilty-rose:
guilty-rose Featured By Owner Dec 9, 2013  Hobbyist Artisan Crafter
Wahhh thank you friend!!!
Reply
:iconfaraday-chan:
Faraday-chan Featured By Owner Dec 9, 2013
Lol no worries! How have you been?
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(1 Reply)
:iconsombrefeline:
sombrefeline Featured By Owner Sep 8, 2013  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thanks for faving :)
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:iconfaraday-chan:
Faraday-chan Featured By Owner Sep 16, 2013
No worries ;)
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