Very early for a saturday, but I feel better if I wake early, and my pet male should be about some time soon.

Went to the last Scouts meeting of my troop last night. Realised as I was leaving just how sad that was. Also, halfway through Heather-Meg broke her leg whilst on the treasure hunt with one of the patrols. Now we know that the screaming we heard wasn't just Cathleen mucking around. I've never heard anything so pained, in hindsight.
Had a flour fight with the younger ones. Also taught 'frapping' again, which progressing into just hitting each other really hard with lengths of rope. The young boy who used to have (?) a crush on me has now developed into a healthy little creature.
And funniest yet...all those high-pitched little skinny things that I left when I got too old for Scouts...well, they're all about four inches taller than me and soud possessed because their voice hs broken. I feel partially proud of them, partially just amused.
I really have missed it, and I can't just close that chapter of my life. There's too much in there. Much nostalgia and want of tears now. Will relearn all skills learnt. Will try and keep in contact with small ones and ones my age. Don't care about the older ones, they're all corrupt and uninteresting.

- S.H.

Greek/Roman Mythology, the two intertwine in such a tangled web it's often impossible to withdraw one from t'other:
Pygmalion: The sculptor who fell in love with his sculpture.

Pygmalion was a sculptor, an eligible bachelor of many many years, and often threw insult to the women of his community by refusing to show interest in their daughters. He spent all his time in his workshop, making beautiful statues and attending to his art. It was said that he lost his interest in women after seeing the Propoetides prostituting themselves. (They were made to do this as retribution for not paying correct homage to Venus/Aphrodite.)

Here the tale deviates with times. The 'original' myth went something like this:
Pygmalion carved out a statue, a beautiful figure. A stunning maiden that he put every effort into. Upon finishing this life-size beauty, he stood back, wiped the sweat from his brow and gazed upon her. He fell in love with this statue. Marvelling at her beauty and wanting her for himself so utterly that he bestowed gifts at her feet and pined for her piteously. Eventually Aphrodite/Venus took pity upon him and breathed life into the ivory figure. Pygmalion and the woman lived happily ever after.

Or:
The sculptor refused any offer of marriage that was taken to him. The mothers of women in the village he lived in grew ever bitter and angry with his refusal to take a wife and they prayed to Aphrodite/Venus for him to find love. The Goddess listened with a curious ear to their prayers, and eventually came to Pygmalion, appearing in his workshop.
"Why do you scorn so many maidens? Why do you not take a bride" she asked of him. He turned to her, and when he gained his composure before the Goddess of Beauty and Love he replied.
"None of them are good enough." He said. The Goddess was surprised.
"You are only a humble sculpture. You are neither rich nor poor. There are plenty of maidens, fair and young in the village that would suit you." She said. He continued.
"None will do, Goddess. None but you. For none of them have even the slightest of your beauty and grace." Aphrodite/Venus was flattered, but concealed it with pride.
"I am a Goddess. You shall not have me." She told him.
"Then let me sculpt you. Let me create an image of you."
To this she acquiesced and stood in the moonlight to let him sculpt her from a large life-size block. After only one night he told her he did not need her to linger with him, and that he knew her form from memory. This was true. He was skilled and the work was of fine quality, but gradually as he worked, a different element entered the cold material.
When he was done the statue was not of Aphrodite/Venus. It had become something else, a beautiful nymph-like creature and he fell in love with it secretly. The Goddess looked upon the finished work and her expression turned cold as she noted its beauty rivalled hers. She saw Pygmalion, and saw his love for the statue, and left.
Nights progressed and Pygmalion fell more and more deeply in longing for his statue. His pining made him ill and he became weak. After many nights he prayed hopelessly to Aphrodite/Venus to appear to him. She did, with cool anger.
"Please, make her real. Bring her to life." He begged, "I wish only to love her."
"You said that only I would do."she replied.
"You are a Goddess. Immortal and unchanging. I cannot have you, as you said, but her - her I could have. If only she were alive."
Aphrodite/Venus thought on this, then let Pygmalion have his request. She brought the statue to life.
In her spite, she made the statue - who named herself Galatea - hate Pygmalion. And she left him. Alone and without anything but his cold sculptures.

- S.H.

Title has naught to do with the fellow except that we have a Deviant who has collected his name in there's.


Little known, fairly new to devart but not to the poetry realm. Not perfect, (who is) but has some ideas and imagery that makes for happy. Style is exploratory and honest, and deserves more reading and feedback. Check them out, leave some virtual footprints of contextual relativity.

My current favourite entitled 'Kiss': [link]
Mainly because of the simplicity and niceness. But 'Mark' is quite enjoyable.


All hopes and thoughts to those in need of much love and hugs. I'm home sick and so have all the time in the world to feel for others and respect their needs.

- Small Hope

Hari ini saya dimutusan bahwa saya akan menulis ini dalam bahasa indonesia, karena saya punya ulangan berbicara hari besok dan mau menyiapkan untuk ini. Kemungkinan besar bahwa hanya orang yang mengerti ini adalah Underground Rogue, jadi....hmm. Hai kp. *tertawa*

Mungkin saya akan menulis sedikit dalam bahasa inggris...kalau penting, saya akan.

Pada saat ini, semua hal sakit. Hidup yang Cinta sakit. Pikiraan sakit. Kerongkangan sakit sekali. Dan tentu saja saya lelah lagi.
Khawatir tentang sahabat saya.

Muse: [link] The only swearing they've ever done. (iya, sanggat penting sekali...)

- S.H.

PS I have tonsilitis again. It's just funny now.

(Title: Muse Album)

Studying Translations (Friel) in classes, fairly interesting, still think we could be doing more productive things. Like ...more poetry. Or conduct massive debates over trivial points in texts. (which is what we do when he lets us get carried away, but everything's trivial in Translations thus far...)

Lots of work to do tonight but will hopefully pen some ideas - they've been echoing and I would lament their loss. An idle pen leaks ink.
Camera batteries don't function and therefore haven't been able to take the photos I've been wanting. Have had interesting ideas for character shots.
(My Shadowe, please don't ever take photos of me from the side)

Music: voice is ripped from teaching 50+ students the harmony to a hymn, at least they seem to learn it. Piano is slow and I don't have enough time for it. But it's lingering patiently in the background. Celtic Band performance was good, not great but fun.

Work: Drama's full on but easy. Everything else needs more work put in. So I'm off to do it now...

- S.H.