Eyes - building the characterization

I decided that I will make characters first, and then find a story to suit them. I am ridiculously focused around eyes, so usually I decide what color eyes my character has before I even decide anything else. Once I have the eye color, I design my entire character around how I described those eyes… so I shall start with my female character. I decided that she’d have gray eyes (I started with brown, then i couldn’t come up with any interesting descriptions, and then moved onto green or blue, then realized that I wanted the male character to have green or blue eyes, and I will certainly not have my character have strange orange or lilac colored eyes. I’d like a bit of realism, even if my story ends up being completely random and strange. So far, I’ve run my idea by a few people, and the general reaction is “what on Earth is wrong with you”. I’m okay with this. It’s fairly not contrived… and I feel like I’ll have fun writing it). Here is her (I still don’t have a name from her… it’s more like I have a list compiled of a million people who I bugged into giving me names) character sketch (incomplete, more like just of her eyes):

Her eyes were dark gray and intense as a brewing thunderstorm with sparks of lightning flashing through. Cold and tumultuous, possessing a wisdom far beyond her years, they bore holes into the souls of those who she observed. It was unsettling – those misty orbs seemed to pass judgment with every flicker, every blink, every movement they made. They were idolized and envied for their unparalleled and mysterious beauty, yet feared for the unnerving clarity with which they shone, as if revealing all of the deep and dark secrets one stores within the depths of their heart.

I wonder if I can put that entire chunk into my short story. Maybe I will type up what the guy’s eyes will look like too. I wish I could make the entire story about eyes. But I won’t, because I don’t really have an idea for that. And having a fun (contrived) story with a gruesome and terrible ending just sounds like more fun to write. I don’t have a name for the guy either. I have many more names of the girl than the guy, but the guy I need to find the name of someone – well, I’ll not spoil the ending. J I decided that because her eyes are so intense, I need to make her just as intense to match. And here are the green (I decided on green, because blue is so overdone…):

Sparkling and cheery, the skin around his eyes crinkled and accentuated the lighthearted joy that shined through his eyes. The color was as lush and vibrant as the dewy grass on a cold morning, and they existed with a vibrant liveliness that paralleled his personality. They were windows to his soul, clear portals to the simple and unrestrained personality inside the tall and broad frame. Gentle and kind, he looked upon everything with deep eyes that spoke with a charismatic force far louder than his words. The color of glittering emeralds, rolling green fields, and luxurious tropical islands attracted and lured people to him despite his quiet and shy personality.

Meh, I need to work on that one. It’s like ridiculous amounts of descriptions that I just like, and not that much substance…

I think I will just start posting random ideas here – my story won’t be much of a surprise.

Exaggeration in Tranquility

                 He sits, hunched over, with an aura of insecurity. His brown hair flops down like a mop, ending just a bit below his forehead. The vague curls that intermingle with straight locks don’t align themselves; they rebel as if forcing him to be just a little less put together than he already is. A look of serious boredom paints itself across his angular face. His jaw, square, defines itself in a sharp angle that draws the edge of his face in a strong and secure border, contrasting his demeanor. His lips are not pressed firmly or thinly, but loosely settled in a single line; they show neither happiness nor sadness – like an empty abyss, they remain void.  Pale skin is graced with high cheekbones and a protruding nose – it has a single bump marking half of his heritage, his eyes marking the other. Glassy and dull, deep pools of coffee stare lifelessly forward into empty space. His arms cross gently, allowing the baggy sweatshirt to droop down; his legs bent uncomfortably, too long for the small chair he’s resting in. His entire body screams with an insecurity, as he unconsciously tries to shrink his physical body down to patch of space his psyche perceives as safe to occupy. Conscious, his brain rambles wildly, yet it is never expressed by a single movement, a single twitch of a muscle, a single gleam of his dark eyes.

                Unexpectedly, he is jostled from his reverie. Quiet, yet far more rambunctious, a companion disturbs his peaceful monotony, and he smiles. Glass sparkles as an adorable countenance spreads across the void face. The eyes narrow and crinkle with a quiet and reserved laughter. His shoulders hunch as he ducks his head; even in mirth he subconsciously feels uncomfortable in his skin. He shakes with a pure and lighthearted emotion, his mouth how a toothy grin full of warmth and kindness. He pushes back in mock indignation. Complacency replaces his boredom, as he settles into a conversation of little words. His expression returns to default, emotionless, but now, his eyes glitter with hidden mirth and wisdom.

                Normality ensues.  

A/N: I have no idea what's wrong with me. I don't think this even describes him very well. It's like I started with a description of him, decided it was too boring, and went crazy with details. And bad sentence structure. Also, the title has basically nothing to do with anything. I'm tired and most likely insane. One day, I would like to stop being insane. Hopefully, this day will come soon.

Observation - It's all in the details

The wistful feeling as I typed into the conversation box what I wanted, what I truly desired. The pink text building and the short phrases stacked one on top of another, creating quite a formidable list.
I was crushed that he would never exist.

The fake rose that is twined around my lamp is staring to fade, the edges are starting to fray from its age. There are things that get better with age, like cheese and wine, but fake roses are really not one of them. I wonder when it’s all faded, if it counts as dying…

On the top of my computer, I have a pair of glasses that reflect the light just barely, and a ring that shines beautifully from the bits of lamplight it receives. Silver ring with two crystal “leaves” and stripes on the stems of my glasses

Pink tissue box with a strange ribbed pattern on one side sits on my table. I lean over and I notice the other side that has a sparse swirl-y pattern. I cannot decide which one I like more.

The scarf that I purchased perhaps a week ago lies in a clump on my messy desk. Its twists and turns are not so noticeable when it’s all grouped together like that. The silver thread catches the light (it seems that I like shiny things) and makes it seem semi-magical. I rather like pink.

I have a stapler in front of me. It is brown and tan, a rather boring combination. But it is a trusty old stapler that remains on my desk pointed toward the window with its “mouth” open, as if waiting to catch something that’s outside.

The little orange rectangular tab in the middle of my computer screen flashes, letting me know that another one of my friends has imparted a little nugget of wisdom upon me. Either that, or they’re just telling me hi.
Which can be viewed as wisdom all on its own, I suppose.

Life ticks by slowly.

I will make cornbread.