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by navysage (navysage)
at July 23rd, 2007 (01:40 pm)

location :: New York
mood :: pensive
music :: Peaceful

Greetings, Internets. Whilst here, I go by Navysage.

I choose my words carefully and rarely repeat myself. The three qualities I value most are honor, courage, and empathy. I believe in chivalry, and practice it where nobody else does. I spend a lot of time in deep thought, and enjoy solitude. I am somewhat independent, but I love all of my friends very much and count on them. I am a nice guy, and try hard to do a little good in this world. I'm a hopeless romantic and a dreamer, and my imagination often runs wild. And now, it seems, I shall be sharing my thought with you readers.

I hope you all enjoy. =)

Darlin', we make the world spin counterclockwise. [userpic]
Of Botox and Braces.
by Darlin', we make the world spin counterclockwise. (solar_eclipsed)
at July 3rd, 2007 (01:28 pm)

location :: Desk.
mood :: *crankyface*
music :: Falling Into You - Square Bear

Disclaimer: Obviously, I'm not a professional. I don't mean to insult. It's just a rant -- no real offense intended.

You --


     So I just got back from the orthodontist. And it’s not like my teeth hurt, but it makes me wonder…Who was the one person who was that desperate for a job, that he/she sat down and said, “You know what? The fact that your teeth are at different angles bother me. So I’m going to put metal shit and wires on them, cause you an immense amount of pain for several days of your life that you can never get back, and then, after a good three years of torture, I’ll charge you for it all?” Because I’ve got to hand it to them, superficial as their idea may sound, they’ve actually got something right. I’m usually not this pessimistic, but it just struck me how many people buy into this. It’s like your teeth have to be freakishly straight for you to be socially acceptable. But where’s the rebel? Where’s the guy who isn’t getting braces or “InvisAlign” (Oooh, speshul!!1) and standing in front of the orthodontic offices yelling, “Damn your societal norms to hell, my teeth are fine the way they came!” No. There can be no rebel. We must all walk around like the perfectly-smiling zombies that we are. And while I’m at it, it’s basically the rest of the cosmetologists.


     I could go on for years about this, but the other one that bothers me the most are dermatologists. I mean, I can’t do anything about the whiteheads on my skin, okay? I’ve tried the damn over-the-counter stuff. It doesn’t work. But I’m not as self-absorbed as to buy into your two-hundred-and-fifteen dollar “Patented Six Step Procedure – Guarantees Clean, Smooth, Soft Skin every time!” What the hell is this “every time” business? If I was going to spend that much money on, what, about twenty square inches of skin, why would I want to do it more than once? And what happens if I do it once, and then I break out again? These people are like the addictions of America. To be a good person, you have to have straight teeth, perfect skin, and cake your face in a dozen different mixtures and potions, right? It’s right, whether we want it to be or not. Because no matter how many times you say that “It’s only what’s on the inside that counts”, I can bet you that you’ve looked at at least one person and judged them on their teeth, or their skin, or their clothes. I’m not attempting to be a martyr. I’ve judged people too. I’m just trying to point out the facts.


     Has anyone ever thought of how freaking awkward it would be to date someone in these professions? Imagine leaning in to give your orthodontist boyfriend a kiss. What happens then?


Him: I’m sorry…I can’t do this.

You: Why, what’s wrong?

Him: Well, um, it’s just that…your left tooth, the one in position number four is slightly crooked, and it’s about a degree off from the perfect path, and, I mean…I just can’t…But can we go into the office? Because a four-by-four chain on your lower jaw would be perfect.

You: *blink.*


Or, god forbid, asking out a dermatologist.


You: Hey, Nancy, I was wondering…Doyouwannagooutsometime?

Her: Oh, that’s so sweet…I would, but…

You: But what?

Her: Never mind.

You: No, tell me…

Her: Well, it’s your skin. I mean…have you ever even heard of a microdermabrasive face mask? And what about a 3% salicylic acid mixture instead of a 5% benzoyl peroxide cream? And…

You: *blink.*


Do I really have to spell it out for you? A-w-k-w-a-r-d.


Anyway, there really isn’t a point to ranting about cosmetologists, because the field simply may not exist later in life. Come on, after you correct the teeth and skin of every person in your country, start performing liposuction on babies, find a way to inject Botox into children so that they won’t wrinkle when they’re older, and eventually incorporate your “beautifying changes” into the DNA of every single person on the planet, what happens then? You get superficial, plastick-ed babies, no one can tell how old anyone else is because everyone is perfect, and all the orthodontists and the dermatologists have nothing left to do, so after they die, no one else sees the need to fill that position again. The economy goes haywire as cosmetics sales start to tower over regular materials, such as food (because people are afraid eating will make them fat, and no one wants that). All the people who still can’t look “pretty” or “hot” end up unable to reproduce because no one wants them, and then half the world is all off tanning on some remote island in the middle of the Pacific. You see, society states that you can’t really be cool until you’re brown enough to get skin cancer from a lightbulb. And no cheating, people – we can tell when your skin is orange with JIFFY TAN – THE #1 SPRAY-TANNER ON THE MARKET!


Cosmetically perfectly yours, of course,



Knox145's Introduction
by knox145 (knox145)
at June 30th, 2007 (11:10 am)


 Well, this is my, knox145, introduction. None of us were quite sure exactly what we wanted to put here, or the site in general. That’s probably the best way to go, restrictions cause a loss of motivation. No motivation – no Sporkhouse Four. Sounds like a Sci-Fi Channel show gone wrong. No offense Solar, its kick ass.

 I hate talking about myself. Actually, that’s a lie. Who doesn’t? I hate describing myself, that’s the truth. So in an attempt to explain who I am, I thought Id list some stuff that comes to mind.

 Id like to say I’m democratic, I mean I am… But it’s almost shameful (maybe thats a bit strong) to call yourself that sometimes, I’m not too huge a fan of anyone in the upcoming election. Its too soon to decide. Doesn’t matter though, not eligible to vote.

Atheist. Well, sorta. I don’t believe that everything ends after death, I just think if there is something, it could be proved scientifically. Doesn’t mean I won’t talk about religion (don’t be surprised if a lot of my entries are on the subject); ask anyone that knows me – once you get me started its hard to get me to shut up.

 Movie-buff. That ones true. Not someone who loves to go to the movies so much they’ll see whatever they can. No. I want to see a good movie, not Shrek 3. Not Pirates 3, no Fantastic Four 2. I want to see quality movies – Children of Men, Seven Samurai, Hero, LoTR… I think you get my drift. 

Often times I enjoy my own company. Please, no emo jokes. Far from it. Everyone should be alone at some point. Gives you space – to think. Something I’m very known for.


Hi, I'm Night_face, and I'm a pretend writer.
by night_face (night_face)
at June 30th, 2007 (01:02 am)

location :: Fohio.
mood :: sick
music :: "Vicious Traditions", The Veils

If today the SH4 met you in person, dear reader, I know exactly what would happen. We'd do introductions. I'd give you a meek "hello". And for the next fifteen minutes or however long we talked, I would wedge myself in between Solar and the door, and I would merely listen. Solar would impress you. Knox would interest you. And our fourth member would support you.

I would hide from you. Unless, by chance, you happened to be particularly convincing, in which case I would confide everything in you. Sometimes, you would transfer the information. Then we would be back at square one.

That's why paper pwns. I don't have to talk, don't have to stutter at you, don't have to look at you and wonder what's swimming through your mind. I don't have to pretend.

Even with paper, I still don't always get the message across. Sometimes when I've sent Solar one of my poems, and asked her what she thought, she'll reply, "It's commenting on x and y.". In truth, it means a and b.

So this is why I joined, I suppose. I want to give you a piece of me, let you toss it around and judge for yourself.

Someone once told me I was fragile, but I'd like to think I'm the opposite. Of course, it isn't true. You know the saying, "Don't mess with Texas"? I think if I was a state, my motto would be, "Mess with me... and I'll cry." But I'd like to show the world that I'm not so pathetic as I seem.


Darlin', we make the world spin counterclockwise. [userpic]
At First Glance.
by Darlin', we make the world spin counterclockwise. (solar_eclipsed)
at June 30th, 2007 (12:47 am)

location :: Desk.
mood :: mellow
music :: "Winter Winter Spring", This Day and Age

You –

I hate writing about myself. It’s always so impossible to do, without thinking you’re sounding conceited, or berating yourself over every little detail. It’s worse if you’re a perfectionist. I can barely write one sentence without going back and editing it, making sure it means exactly what I want it to mean. Many people think I’m just about as interesting as an encyclopaedia. Plain black and white text, no frills, nothing too exciting, just a source of information and help when you need it. I hate to be the redundant “don’t-label-me-I-am-not-a-soup-can-anti-judgment-antagonized-weep-weep-weep-teenager”, but that’s untrue.

I am analytical, sarcastic, rational. I am a dancer, a writer, a reader. I am opinionated, but I distrust enough to keep it away from those who twist words. I am critical, I am expressive, I am honest. I believe in love. I pick my friends carefully. I don’t like large groups. I can be silent. I can be harsh. I can be deadly. Then again, I can be overdramatic. I can be everyone’s angel, I can be the girl with her friends surrounding her and laughing over something completely pointless, I can be completely idiotic or drastically serious. I can be the one talking nonstop, or I can be the one who doesn’t talk at all.

But I’ve barely scratched the surface.

Everchangingly yours,


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