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I'm mean, charming, lazy, funny/entertaining, kinky, rude, fiery, (sometimes anti) social, ill-tempered, indifferent, laid-back, and... cute, too. I'm a weirdo, an orderly anarchist, a nihilist, an animal lover, a satanist (deep down inside), a psycho at times, a narcissist all of the time, a perfectionist in my own way, an observer and contemplator and an old soul. I love the outdoors and everything related. I hate everything except for a few things... which are too many to count. I love life, but I'm dreadfully curious about death.
I like: The Occult, silver, hanging out, doing Evil deeds, camping, headbanging, felines, swimming in ice cold mountain streams, piercings, the non-color black, all forms of art - especially photography, drinking, tattoos, canned tuna with lemon and toast, listening to all kinds of music - mostly rock/metal, my buds and Myself.
I dislike: Posers, blue, traffic, racism, people who exagerate, winter, dust bunnies, sexism, my sleep being interrupted (seriously, it wrecks my whole day), stupid questions, the first day after coming home from an awesome trip, being ignored, homophobes, ordinary people, dogs, wearing lipstick, time and people wearing my clothes.
Nihil Sine Ego.
Which literature classic are you?
"The Picture of Dorian Gray" by Oscar Wilde. You are a horror novel from the world of dandies, rich pretty boys, art and aesthetics, and intellectual debates between ethical people and decadent pleasure-seekers. You value beauty and pleasure, but realize their dangers, as well.
What type of killer are you?
You are a maniac killer. It doesn't matter who they are and what they have or haven't done. You still want to kill them. And for a simple reason only; it's fun. Seeing people in pain is like ecstasy. Maybe you have some sort of mental problems or you are this way because of previous deep scars, only you know. But now you are sadistic and maybe you only like to see a special group of people be in pain (e.g. preps). However you are not the most social person in the bunch and people think you are weird. That bothers you somewhat but at least you can entertain yourself with daydreaming about killing them. After all, they have no idea what's coming.
Which Artist Would Paint You?
You have the Renoir girl look. Youd have enchanted the French Impressionists, who painted lively girls at work and play. Their models were ballet dancers, girls of Paris enjoying themselves at open air dances or in music halls and cafes, delighting in the sunshine or the bright lights of French nightlife. The Renoir girl loved to experiment with make-up and were fun loving, sexy yet elegant. The following painters would have loved to paint you; Dietz Edzard, Edourad Manet, Edgar Degas and Auguste Renoir.
Which of the five chinese elements are you?
You are the chinese element of Fire. People who are under the element of fire are considerate, sensitive and communicative. Fire, you are a conjuror, and you hate boredom, butterfly emotions and you also crave excitement. The color of fire is red and your symbol is the phoenix. Summer is the season in which fire shines and it's months are April/May. Your weather condition is heat. Fire is the direction south, and your day is Tuesday, while your planet is Mars. Animals under your element are usually winged. People under you are the Hans. Your sense is taste, whereas your taste is bitter, your sound is laughing and your virtue is propriety. Your organ is the heart. You were created by Wood and you control metal.
If you were chocolate, what kind would you be?
You aren't any kind of chocolate! You're caramel! You like to be as different as possible - you don't like people copying your style or your new made-up words. You (caramel) are very different from other people (chocolate) and you want it to stay that way! You like being you!
What is the center of your dark core?
Your dark side is centered around Destructive Power. A strong powerful castel built above broken fragile glass, behind this setteled confident look there is a beautiful, innocent child waiting for someone to play with. All you want is an independent caring soul, completes you, no more lies or worries, just a strong connection bonded by trust so you can feel special and confident, find a new meaning for everything, life will be almost perfect like you want. You will find what you want when know that life is not always like we want it to be.
What type of Mythical Sprite are you?
Cruel, beautiful, ominous and evil. You are a sprite of Darkness: Most shiver at the sound of your name, you are ominous and something to be feared. Humans are playthings to you, toys for your own horrid uses. Heartless and cruel you love the pain and hardships of others, sometimes you are the cause. You are very beautiful on the outside which will entrance any mortal into believing what you lead them to, but sooner or later they will understand the deadly ways of your true nature. Despite your dark side you are very talented, you have many gifts that you leave locked up in favor of whatever else your doing at the moment. The feeling of love is alien and unwanted, it frightens you. Perhaps the only thing that does, you are quite brave and things rarely surprise or startle you.
Mine interesser
Shadow - A Parable
by Edgar Allan Poe
Ye who read are still among the living; but I who write shall have long since gone my way into the region of shadows. For indeed strange things shall happen, and secret things be known, and many centuries shall pass away, ere these memorials be seen of men. And, when seen, there will be some to disbelieve, and some to doubt, and yet a few who will find much to ponder upon in the characters here graven with a stylus of iron.
The year had been a year of terror, and of feelings more intense than terror for which there is no name upon the earth. For many prodigies and signs had taken place, and far and wide, over sea and land, the black wings of the Pestilence were spread abroad. To those, nevertheless, cunning in the stars, it was not unknown that the heavens wore an aspect of ill; and to me, the Greek Oinos, among others, it was evident that now had arrived the alternation of that seven hundred and ninety-fourth year when, at the entrance of Aries, the planet Jupiter is conjoined with the red ring of the terrible Saturnus. The peculiar spirit of the skies, if I mistake not greatly, made itself manifest, not only in the physical orb of the earth, but in the souls, imaginations, and meditations of mankind.
Over some flasks of the red Chian wine, within the walls of a noble hall, in a dim city called Ptolemais, we sat, at night, a company of seven. And to our chamber there was no entrance save by a lofty door of brass: and the door was fashioned by the artisan Corinnos, and, being of rare workmanship, was fastened from within. Black draperies, likewise, in the gloomy room, shut out from our view the moon, the lurid stars, and the peopleless streets- but the boding and the memory of Evil they would not be so excluded. There were things around us and about of which I can render no distinct account- things material and spiritual- heaviness in the atmosphere- a sense of suffocation- anxiety- and, above all, that terrible state of existence which the nervous experience when the senses are keenly living and awake, and meanwhile the powers of thought lie dormant. A dead weight hung upon us. It hung upon our limbs- upon the household furniture- upon the goblets from which we drank; and all things were depressed, and borne down thereby- all things save only the flames of the seven lamps which illumined our revel. Uprearing themselves in tall slender lines of light, they thus remained burning all pallid and motionless; and in the mirror which their lustre formed upon the round table of ebony at which we sat, each of us there assembled beheld the pallor of his own countenance, and the unquiet glare in the downcast eyes of his companions. Yet we laughed and were merry in our proper way- which was hysterical; and sang the songs of Anacreon- which are madness; and drank deeply- although the purple wine reminded us of blood. For there was yet another tenant of our chamber in the person of young Zoilus. Dead, and at full length he lay, enshrouded; the genius and the demon of the scene. Alas! he bore no portion in our mirth, save that his countenance, distorted with the plague, and his eyes, in which Death had but half extinguished the fire of the pestilence, seemed to take such interest in our merriment as the dead may haply take in the merriment of those who are to die. But although I, Oinos, felt that the eyes of the departed were upon me, still I forced myself not to perceive the bitterness of their expression, and gazing down steadily into the depths of the ebony mirror, sang with a loud and sonorous voice the songs of the son of Teios. But gradually my songs they ceased, and their echoes, rolling afar off among the sable draperies of the chamber, became weak, and undistinguishable, and so faded away. And lo! from among those sable draperies where the sounds of the song departed, there came forth a dark and undefined shadow- a shadow such as the moon, when low in heaven, might fashion from the figure of a man: but it was the shadow neither of man nor of God, nor of any familiar thing. And quivering awhile among the draperies of the room, it at length rested in full view upon the surface of the door of brass. But the shadow was vague, and formless, and indefinite, and was the shadow neither of man nor of God- neither God of Greece, nor God of Chaldaea, nor any Egyptian God. And the shadow rested upon the brazen doorway, and under the arch of the entablature of the door, and moved not, nor spoke any word, but there became stationary and remained. And the door whereupon the shadow rested was, if I remember aright, over against the feet of the young Zoilus enshrouded. But we, the seven there assembled, having seen the shadow as it came out from among the draperies, dared not steadily behold it, but cast down our eyes, and gazed continually into the depths of the mirror of ebony. And at length I, Oinos, speaking some low words, demanded of the shadow its dwelling and its appellation. And the shadow answered, "I am SHADOW, and my dwelling is near to the Catacombs of Ptolemais, and hard by those dim plains of Helusion which border upon the foul Charonian canal." And then did we, the seven, start from our seats in horror, and stand trembling, and shuddering, and aghast, for the tones in the voice of the shadow were not the tones of any one being, but of a multitude of beings, and, varying in their cadences from syllable to syllable fell duskly upon our ears in the well-remembered and familiar accents of many thousand departed friends.
